


Chronicles of the House of Orming

by Pilarcraft



Category: Crusader Kings 2 (Video Game), Crusader Kings 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate History, Game Playthrough, Gen, Vikings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28074924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilarcraft/pseuds/Pilarcraft
Summary: Chronicles of the House of Orming as told by excerpts from the personal journals of its heads of dynasty.
Kudos: 13





	1. Journal of Ormr Orming, Lord of Cornouaille (867-896)

**January 867**

It’s been months since I left home in Tarm. Jarl Bagsecg called for us to go raiding along the coast south, and I was poor, wealthless and saw no good future for me or my own, so I thought going viking may be my lucky break. Maybe I was wrong, maybe not.

I took to raiding like so many others, but my fate was different. I rode under Ottar’s retinue, and we sailed further west to the very edges of the Narrow Sea. We terrorized the local ruler, a King Salomon, by chipping away at his forces, stealing his cattle and burning his settlements. It’s been only days since Ragnarr of Munsö was killed in Northumbria, and everyone’s scared of what the future may bring.

Maybe I was the least bad option, or maybe the man he had sent simply didn’t know _who_ he was talking to, but Salomon offered me a choice today, stop raiding, settle down and stop the others, and he’ll give me my own land. The choice was simple. Most of Ottar’s men saw my way as well.

We killed Ottar only hours ago, Kjartan poisoned his mead and I drove a dagger in his neck, and we brought his head to Salomon. He made me the Count of Cornouaille. I may never go back to Jylland again.

As a landlord in Brittany, I have been told that I am of nobility now, and offered my own coat of arms. I have picked a golden lion on a shield of red. I have no ‘noble family’, to speak, and I wanted to call myself Orm of Cornouaille, but my locals have come to call me Orm Orming. Not much of a noble family, honestly, given it’s just me for now.

I have wed Hildeburg, a West Francian courtier of Cornouaille’s previous lord, if only to keep my fellow vassals calm at the risk of a Norseman takeover of their ancestral homes. Valhalla knows I have enough to deal with from the native serfs alone.

**August 868**

Bored with the life of a nobleman, I took to the streets today to oversee the training of my men-at-arms. Here, I saw Gothmundr for the first time since I took Cornouaille, and -who would have thought it- it’s while in a fight. At first I thought him a fool, back in our Viking days and even beforehand, he was never as good as I was, but the bastard has become a _berserk_. Fighting him was harder than I had thought it was, and by the end it became obvious the longer we would continue to fight, the less he would be aware of his surroundings. When his sword fell to the ground, I nearly let out a breath of relief.

On one hand, Gothmundr will prove a much better champion to fight by my side than most of these sorry Breton lot. On the other hand, will it be _that_ easy to keep yet another man of my kind -the worshippers of the Old Gods, Norsemen in a Breton Land- in this court?

**November 869**

Freyja be praised, my wife Hildeburg is bearing my child! It has been three years since we wed, and I had come to lose hope by now. I was lucky too, a few days later, and I would be out of Quimper, going to hunt for Brest.

My neighbor to the north, Olafr is outside the domain of his majesty Salomon of Brittany, and -what’s more- he is a follower of the Old Gods, giving me just the perfect reason to overfall his lands and take some more for my own.

**March 870**

Fought Olafr’s forces in Brest, right outside his capital. Losses minimal on our side, mostly the levies -who were killed by Olafr’s champions, while almost all of his men -the small retinue as well as the levies- have fallen to our blades. Gothmundr killed three of Olafr’s champions all by himself, and the other two we captured while they were fleeing. I can almost taste the victory, and the siege hasn’t even begun yet.

**June 870**

Don’t have enough men for a continued siege on Brest. Had to ‘borrow’ some of Salomon’s men. Hopefully, he won’t come to collect later.

**November 870**

While awaiting the enemy -attacking fortified positions without any of the Bretons’ onagers is simply too hard, but we make do-, I heard a commotion coming from my champions’ lodging. Gothmundr was arguing with Fransaz, my Chancellor, and it appeared they would come to blows. Hoping to stop him from killing one of his fellow knights, I came to give them a new ear to cry on. If I can convince this sorry lot to keep a united front against our enemy _this close to collapsing_ , I’ll praise my stars.

I got up, and delivered a speech to the crowd -the usual spiel, how we are all fighting for a united cause, Norseman and Breton, and how we must stand united against our foe, for if we don’t they might take advantage of it. I’m not convinced they won’t fight again, but this is enough. For now. Brest is hungered, and I feel it will fall to us soon.

**December 870**

It is over. We captured Brest, and made Olafr hand over the land at the other point of a sword in his own castle. I have missed warfare like this, and I am sure Salomon, even if he is angry about his lack of levies recently, will understand when I start paying him more gold. Will return to Cornouaille once I am sure Brest is stabilized.

**February 871**

Upon returning home, I learned that I now have a son. Hildeburg gave me my son, half a year old now, and told me she had named him Eskild, after my father. Freyja be praised, hopefully I will be home for the next one’s birth. Salomon was reasonably annoyed about his lack of levies, but he let it go this once, if only for the birth of my son.

**October 871**

Went hunting today in Cornouailles a few days ago. Shot down some beasts. You’d think the last one was a creature from myth, one of Odin’s sucklebeasts hunted by the honoured dead in Valhalla. It was the largest boar I’ve ever seen, and even wounded it took us half a day to bring it down. I am sure the locals will be happy if I give them its meat for their feasting, crops _have_ been failing recently.

With the hunt drawing to an end, we mounted our horses to leave the plains behind us. In spite of some difficulties, the hunt has gone really well. Nobody was injured, and apart from the boar none of our kills were dangerous to chase. We return home reinvigorated.

**December 871**

With a tired yet blissful smile, Hildeburg presents me a perfect, healthy little second son. Who will you become, my little Sverker? Will you be happy holding a land equal to Eskild’s once you grow up and I leave this realm to Valhalla?

**February 873**

Today, I defeated Gothmundr in a spar. It’s probably the first time since 867 that I could do this. He called me out in practice, and challenged me to a friendly duel. Thinking it would do well to practice with my sword -as befits a nobleman this far west-, I accepted. It took me more than it would have a decade ago, but -even with him going berserk- I am better armed, and he does not have the body mass to slam me around like he would these little Bretonlings. A few strikes of a sword and he laid defenseless before me.

**April 873**

Guenna, my spymaster, came to my office today after hours. While we do not know _who_ yet, it has become clear someone is plotting to kill Ofeig, the bishop that controls the Churches in my lands. Maybe if we help him out, he will agree to give me the gold I am due in my own lands. If not, whoever it is that’s working against him will probably enjoy having some help.

**July 873**

Just like other children, Eskild sometimes lies and tests boundaries. He does, however, quite often avoid suspicion with his sweet demeanor. Hel, they usually forgive him even the few times he _is_ caught, I myself am as suspectible to his charms as everyone else. the brat is already a better manipulator than I have ever been, and he’s barely a baby. I wonder how much else he gets away with, and how much else he _can_ get away with… I’ll have to keep an eye on this one.

**April 874**

King Salomon sent a new messenger today. He’s asking for Eskild to be taken to his court to be raised a Breton. I may have said yes -it won’t do well to annoy him now- but then something worse happened. Guenna told me only hours later, once the messenger had been quartered for the night, that he was here for a second reason.

Salomon is the man who’s trying to kill his own imposed bishop. I don’t understand… _why_ would he do this in the first place? What purpose would it have?

Maybe it is time to find some new lands _outside_ of Salomon’s domain where he won’t have any claims on my rights to… Albion is as chaotic now as it was when I came to Cornouaille. Ragnarr Lothbrok’s sons are causing as much chaos as you’d think, though I _highly_ suspect the Hvitserk domains will collapse hilariously once Halfdan falls on his sword some time now. Maybe I’ll look for some land in Ireland or Wales, outside of the harm’s way…

**September 874**

Hasteinn is dead. He was killed only days ago, if my Steward’s claims are to be believed, killed by some murderer sent by the West Francian King. I’m not surprised, he had attacked East Francia only years ago, and had all-but destroyed the unity of the German lands, taking for himself a large swathe of land in Swabia. This _does_ mean I have more land for the taking though. Montaigu’s broken off from the hold of Haesteinn’s brat, and as he is godless _and_ lives outside of Breton domains… I foresee Montaigu falling either to the West Franks or to Salomon’s hold soon enough. I only wish it was I who were leading the attack.

**November 874**

“The true enemy of a soldier is complacency” my new Marshal keeps saying. Today, he did so while we were looking at my new footmen drilling. He offered a practice: a mock siege, with him leading the defense from inside the castle and with me leading an offense from the outside… I said yes, though I wonder if I should cease trusting my men so easily.

A tightly shut gate, walls that loom high into the sky and manned by archers to and fro. In the lull before the battle, I could see the gate’s weak spots. We lack siege weapons -and honestly I wouldn’t want to risk damaging my lands in a mock battle of all things- but even then, there are weak spots one can exploit. Here, I led the charge into the spiral stairs of the castle, with my men -one at a time- before me to avoid harm. I am not as good in siegecraft as I am with raiding, but I did well, I think. I wasn’t wounded, and we managed to make it to the top. We made it atop the walls of the castle, many archers mock-surrendering as the time to press on began once again. I stationed some of my own archers on the wall, while leading the charge alongside my men. The castle was ours soon enough.

I suppose I shouldn’t be so glad my castle could fall so easily to attackers. I know or a fact Iudhael was not holding back… this does not bode well, but I hadn’t thought of it until now.

**October 875**

Count or peasant, high or low, it does not matter. In the end, we are all mortals. I was reminded of this today when I woke up with a cough early in the morning, a dull ache pounding through my head and throat. I was also reminded of the fact that I have no court physician -and with a wife pregnant again at this old an age- this cannot do.

The physician I hired did not do well, I am sure her ‘treatment’ was as pointless as the life I led until taking Cornouaille, but thank the gods. As I woke up today and saw sunshine falling through my window, it took me a moment to see that I had slept soundly, with little cough, for the first time in this last two weeks. The cough and ache are both gone, I am whole once again.

**March 876**

What I was scared of most happened today. A representative of the Breton commoners came to my castle today. Some Hoel of Vannes. He demanded lower taxes -if you can believe that- or war.

War it is. His men were already besieging Brest when I called upon the men-at-arms to take their stations.

It took us eleven days to reach Brest, and three to make short work of the pesky serfs. I wonder if I can convince Salomon to let me carve a blood eagle out of this Hoel is one time.

**April 876**

Came back home only days before Hildeburg gave birth again. A perfect, beautiful little daughter. With a hair as red as Sverker -though Eskild takes after his mother. What will you grow to be, little Grima? Will you make life as a shieldmaiden like your kind in the north, or will you live the luxurious and pointless life of a noblewoman down south?

**December 877**

How can a heart endure this kind of pain without breaking? It shouldn’t be possible, and yet here I am, while Hildeburg, my wife of only ten years, is gone. Oh Hildeburg, my sweetness, Life will not be the same without you. I may never marry again.

**August 878**

The time has come. Ofeig may not be the smartest man to hold the office of gothi, but he does his job well, if slowly. I can now raise my forces rightfully to overfall Sir Gaerfyrddin in Wales. I will wait for my coffers to grow and my men to train before I can finally take the land I am owed.

**November 879**

The time has come. Today, I sailed for Wales to challenge Roald of Thelemark for my right over the lands he holds in Wales. May the best man -that is to say, me- win. I will sail with half my men to Wales, and the rest, under my marshal Iudhael, sail for Thelemark. If we can take both before he can muster enough men to challenge us, we will find true victory.

**September 880**

Sir Gaerfryddin has fallen. After two hundred days of besieging, it is finally mine. Roald finally deigned to see what we were here for _after_ its fall. Disappointed that Iudhael couldn’t deal with him for me, but this will make my victory sweeter.

**November 880**

We found victory, as I knew we would, but at what cost? My Chancellor, who’s been one of my few friends, was taken from us, killed by a Berserker in Roald’s army. I captured all his men and killed all his soldiers, but Roald is nowhere to be found. The war is, for all intents and purposes over. With my lands held in Wales, I have the proper springing ground to attack other lordlings -most of them Vikings such as myself, but that will have to wait for now. Today, we feast.

**April 881**

There was a commotion today among the children of the castle. Eskild, trying to preach among the others -and who knew he was such a believer of the old ways or the new?- became the target of a small fight. It took me and Iudhael to keep the children off from each other, especially Sverker, who was quite built upon defending his brother -and their lord- from any harm.

**June 881**

Summoned to Gwened by King Salomon. His son, Riwallon perished at night a few weeks ago, and it took us some time to convince him that rather than an election, his daughter could _still_ hold the throne justly. Heh, all the better. The child was born a few months ago, and Salomon isn’t long for this world. A man of 71 with a lifestyle this dangerous? I may be summoned to Gwened, but by Queen Iudhent instead, soon enough. Salomon’s war with West Francia over Lotharingia’s ownership of his throne still is going, and I am unsure how much longer I can hold neutral before he demands my aid.

**November 882**

The delegation from Caerfyrddin slowly filed out of my private chambers today after hours of negotiation. The petitioners beg for money to rebuild the walls of the castle and its holding, arguing that it is needed for defense against both viking raiders _and_ neighboring Welsh, invoking my lordly duties to oversee its repairs. Good fortifications, sadly, are expensive. By my Steward’s estimate, it’ll drain the treasury in half. I shall have to supervise the construction personally, can’t trust just _anyone_ with these stuff after all.

**June 883**

Just as I expected, Salomon is dead. I was summoned today to Gwened to recognize his successor as my liege. Queen Iudhent is a sweetling, barely two and quite meek for one of her status. Her regent, the Queen Mother, has named me, for now, the Marshal over the realm. It will do well to see how I will treat with my fellow lords now that I am of samelike status to them. Guiharan -the Archbishop- already holds me poorly, though to be fair he is a Christian, and I hide my faith not.

**July 886**

Eskild is a man today, and his education is finally at an end. With sufficient tutelage, even one without a natural inclination towards the matters of careful planning can come to understand its uses. Now it is harder to say however, an elusive shadow he may be, but everything tasked of him is done by others before he gets to it, and he never says petty lies like he used To… Perhaps he was never as smart as we thought after all.

He _is_ the perfect man to make my spymaster now though. Knowledgeable about the skills required, and with a vested interest to keep the status quo.

**December 887**

Sverker returned home today from Gwened, his education complete. I am pleased that even if he might as well have a Midas Touch, he has not lost his Norseness, and is there truly anything better for a realm than a good clerk?

**February 892**

Five years of marriage, and my son and heir finally produces a child of his own. The young one, Hrolfr, is as healthy as every other child in my family thus far. Now, I can rest easy and sleep sound, my sons both have children of their own, and my daughter is wed to the second in line of a throne held by a barren little boy. Maybe if I can convince Eskild it is necessary, he will produce what is needed to remove the other man in the way of my daughter becoming a Lady of her own.

**July 893**

The little girl on her throne isn’t without her fangs, it seems. Her Majesty Queen Iudhent has bode war on the Chieftain of the Northern Islands, coming for his lands in Wales, bordered directly by mine. She asked permission -a charming little lass, isn’t she?- to move her troops, and mine as well, from Sir Gaerfyrddin into Morgannwg.

**February 894**

Bagsecg struck again, this time for Vannes. This can’t go on. He is slowly chipping away all of Brittany, and soon enough, it may be my turn. It may come a day when I am forced to go to war with Bagsecg, or -more likely, his son Skuli- to take back Breton lands. I hope, sincerely, that day won’t come anytime soon.

**January 896**

Fought against invading Orkneyers in Brest. Chased them to Cornouailles, where our ambush struck them down. The battle itself was a victory, but not entirely for me. Pain shoots up my body with every step, even the smallest amount of movement leaving me gasping. As I bring up a hand to gingerly touch my wound, it comes away bloody, and I am left trembling as blood drips my side. The wound is deep. Let us hope Elena, my physician, knows what she says when she claims ‘her knowledge is deeper’.

**February 896**

Sverker is dead. Gods damn the Orkneyers and all their ilk, my son was killed in battle by a berserk. How will I go on? First my wife, now my son… what is left of me to be taken? Sverker did not deserve this. Gods damn them all, Sverker did not deserve this.

_Ormr of Cornouaille found peace in Valhalla at 59 years of age on 7 May 896, dead from an aggravated wound he had suffered in the Battle of Cornouailles a few months prior._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen next? How will Eskild deal with the mess his father left him in? Find out next, when I write down the stuff that happened during the second ruler of my playthrough. This is Ironman, and I've had to edit it seven times, so if I lose, this story ends at that point. I'm hoping it won't, though. It'll be fun seeing what monstrocity I've created when we reach 1455.


	2. Journal of Eskild Ormrson, Lord of Cornouaille (896-924)

**May 896**

My investment was an unseemly affair. Father was pronounced dead late at night on May 7th, and I was proclaimed count of Cornouailles and Brest, Lord of Sir Gaerfyrddin as his successor. Come four months ago, I was only a young man waiting for my turn on the throne, looking forward to working along my brother -who would take Brest. Now, Sverker is dead, head ripped off by some Berserker in the middle of the battle, and father is dead. I did not look forward to this, but it is a duty I will take with a heavy heart, wrecking Ormr’s vengeance upon those who illed him.

**June 896**

Met with the rest of the Vassals today in Caerdydd, the castle of the new land Queen Iudhend took from the Vikings for her 16th nameday to witness her battlefield coronation. May she reign wiser than her father, for I will not have mercy on her if she does not.

**February 898**

For days, I have been obsessing over the heritage of Welsh nobility, in particular the line of Brycheiniog. Prince Elisedd is barren, that much has been known to us all since his birth, results of Freyja’s curses upon his line. So, how does he have a daughter? And with Puelle, whom I knew dearly ages ago when we were both younger and more foolish? I suspect heavily that he is in true my own daughter… and it is time for me to prove so.

The dates, the journeys, the potentials for secret trysts, it is all there, and Elisedd wonders this as much as I do. It is time to come clean… The fact that barren little Nothing will lose whatever little standing he still had in Wales is only icing on the cake.

**June 900**

Praise be Freyja. Oreguen has given birth to a second son. Eight years after the first. Will little Bertil be the Sverker to Hrolfr? A spare that passed far before the heir and for much poorer reasons? Let us hope they will be better children than either of us were.

**October 901**

Gods be praised, Oreguen has given me a daughter. My little Alfhildr, I will protect you with all I have, and even more.

**April 904**

Wulfgar died today. My oldest friend -both by the length of friendship and by age, gave up the ghost in his bed, having served as Marshal to me and my father before me. He was always there for me, especially after Sverker and father passed… I didn’t expect his death to be easy, yet neither could I have ever imagined it be this hard. He was always there to cheer me up, take me drinking after Puelle left me all those years ago, and again to teach me how to deal with grief… And yet, in all my troubles, it is his passing, may his god welcome him to his well-deserved afterlife, that is the most notable. Is a life without him in it even worth living?

**November 905**

Iudhent has asked me to send in my heir to be tutored by her courtiers… Likely a plan to wipe out the Norsemen from her land by taking away the Norsehood of their future lord… and yet, is it important? Does it at all matter? I sent Hrolfr to Sant-Brieg alongside my letter of acceptance. May he grow wiser than I was, and hope lesser for power.

** August 906 **

Her majesty Iudhent died today, succeeded by her son Louis, who also happens to be the firstborn of the king of West Franks, Lothaire II. When Lothaire dies, Louis will take his place. It is time, perhaps, for me to break away from the future of Brittany. Louis cannot be allowed to rule as the Breton king, especially as -it is known- Lothaire will act as his regent. On the other hand, the little brat made me his Steward, this might help heal my coffers now. I took Hrolfr back to Quimper. He may be allowed to raise as a Breton, but not French.

**February 907**

I expected it to happen, and yet when it did I was shocked. The peasants of Brest rose up in rebellion again, like they had during the reign of my father. I will punish them harsher than he ever would.

**May 909**

Hrolfr is not just of age now, but -at the ripe age of 17- the proud parent of a son, the future of our line. Named Sigurdr after the mother’s parent -at least, the Norse version of the name they use in their guttural tongue, he may prove himself the face of the future of the Ormings.

**January 911**

Wessex has united most of the lands of Anglo-Saxons south of York into one realm. Aethelwulf Alfredson, King of Wessex has crowned himself _Rex Anglonorum_ in his castle of Wareham. Can this be the event that turns the tide against the Vikings?

**July 911**

Hrolfr is dead in his bed. Cause of dead, unknown. Reason unknown. He was a healthy young man with little harm done to others, and a bright future to look to. Oh, gods of Valhalla, how could you do this to him? If I have sinned, why not punish me instead? My perfect son… life had so much more in store for him…

I will look into this more. Something is wrong, there was no reason for him to die like so…

Life has never been easy for me, things had always been bad since Father died, and only got worse after Wulfgar… but the death of my son has pushed me over the edge for the second time in a decade. I still remember him as a baby, tiny, fragile, needed me for everything. Despite that, he survived and thrived. He surpassed all his fellows in his education, grew older until… he didn’t. I had so many hopes for him, for us to grow old and for him to find glory like I did. I can do nothing but go on, surviving in my shell of a body but barely living.

Is life truly worth it, without my son, father, brother and best friends?

**August 912**

I have finally taken Vannes after years of war. What my father wanted, and what my brother died for. Was it truly worth it? And will I be able to raise my head high once I, gods willing, pass on to Shor’s halls?

I am no longer the lord of Cornouailles, it is now my intention to leave Quimper behind. Too many bad memories. I will find my home in the old castle of Vannes as its new liege lord.

**April 914**

Only hours after I had finally finished moving into Vannes, I was brought news that Quimper had been sacked.

Louis, gods damn him to the depths of Hel, has failed in his most basic duties to protect my homeland from the ravages of Gorm, Jarl of Jorvik, and with its fall, Cornouailles might as well have lost any protection it could have. Even now, that lame lord’s men are squandering in the countryside, capturing and forthralling every man, woman and child they can get their claws on. Gods damn that fiend, and gods damn Louis. I will avenge this slight against them both.

**February 915**

My mother -and for now, spymaster- has brought me something terrible. It was Gorm. Gorm had my little boy killed, butchered in a means to end my line, and his raid had only been to- he was hoping to find me, or Hrolfr’s son Sigurdr. I will find him. I swear it on the old gods and the new. I will find him, and once I do, I’ll make Aella’s fate look pleasant in comparison, gods help whoever stands in my way.

**January 916**

“How do you like the stew, my lord?” Gyrith, the castle cook asked me today. It didn’t _look_ impressive. Fatty chunks of meat mixed in with pieces of vegetable, the stringy texture interrupted with what looks to be short and sparse fur. It’s… it tastes more delicious than what I’d hoped. When asked, she only smiled and said “I only wish to serve _you_ my lord.”

Does she think she can keep a secret from me?

Apparently so. Despite my best efforts, I can’t find access to the kitchens in a way that she wouldn’t be suspicious of. The mystery gnaws at me still…

**July 917**

I wasn’t fast enough. Gorm is dead. Maimed while raiding my lands, he fell to his injuries. I couldn’t even find my son’s murderer. By gods, what sort of a father am I?

**September 918**

Grima is dead too. Drank herself to death in the court of Portucale where her son, Rodericho -my nephew, though I’ve scarce seen him- rules as duke. Of the children of Ormr I am truly the last man standing?

**February 919**

_This isn’t how it was supposed to go_. I took Vannes. I took it from the grasp of the Jyllanders, at the cost of my men’s health. What right does Lothaire have to?

Lothaire, the Lord of Morgannwyg has bade war on me for Vannes, and his father, the King of France, backs him for it. Gods damn him, gods damn the line of Vernon.

I gave up Vannes. It was not worth the loss in men. I will be back though, and once I am, may gods cry for the Vernon, all of them.

_Eskild’s soul was finally cast down to Hel at 53 years of age on 20 January 924. Dying of heart failure as a result of continued, melancholic grief, in a bitter shell that had barely left his halls since Vannes as taken from him in 919, his end was a fresh breath of air for his subjects. In his lands he was succeeded by his grandson Sigurdr Hrolfrson._


	3. Journal of Sigurdr Hrolfrson, Lord of Cornouaille (924-954)

**January 924**

It has been four generations since my family came to these lands. My father had not even heard of the stories Ormr of Cornouaille had to say about his life before being granted land. His father, my predecessor on the throne, never lived in Tarm, where our ancestor hails from.

I still know the old gods just as well as I do the crucified god of the Romans, and I speak Norse just as well as I speak Breton, but can I truly call myself a Norseman? Truth be told there is little separating my traditions from those of my fellow Vassals, or those of the people in my capital. We observe the same holy days, the same public feasts and our language has become all but the same. I will forever remember that I, first and formost, hail from the North, but it is time I acknowledge who I am.

**May 925**

With the help of my aunt Alfhildr, I have finished my education in the arts of stewardship. Even if I did not achieve much, it is a relief to see _some_ results. Thinking back on my childhood, it hurts to see now that I never truly connected with anyone. Even as folk around me played with each other, found friends or even young love, I was alone, never experienced much of such things myself.

I am certain this is only the beginning of a new chapter in my life, just as that of the House of Orming, though. The coming years will lead to many new friends and opportunities.

As a birthday gift, my liege lord, King Louis granted me the office of his Steward, what my grandfather also held before me.

**February 926**

I was out walking in my castle’s garden when I heard it. A tiny sound. Frail, scared. I looked all over, left no stone unturned no corner searched, no bush inspected. And I finally found it. A little puppy, all alone, sat shivering between two stones. As I pet the dog, he happily wagged his tail. It was a thing of beauty, white fur, small for a hound, but one I am sure I could raise. As I pondered over what to name it, the poor thing rolled over to let me pet his stomach… and that’s when I knew it. Snow. What a great name!

**October 927**

Fate smiles upon me! My wife Elena is bearing my child. May gods all bless my family just as they have me. I can’t wait to hold the babe in my arms. Aunt Alfhildr has similarly given birth to a daughter, Freyja Alfhildrsdottir.

**April 928**

Bishop Birger was the first to see it. The sly fox is hard to distinguish from its surroundings, and even Snow couldn’t detect it fast enough, but it observed us from the undergrowth. I locked eyes with the beast, and as if it can somehow sense my intention, took off suddenly. We rode!

My world narrowed down to the nature surrounding us as we followed the fox on its escape through the ravine. Riding side by side with Birger, I could hear hooves thundering, dogs barking, men shouting. Excitement flew through me as I slowly gained on our quarry. I wasn’t meant to be, though. The fox disappeared into the plains, and I knew there was no hope of finding it. We dismounted to let the horses rest, Birger nodding his head in sympathy. The hunt was at an end, we mounted our horses days later to leave the plains behind as light faded from the sky. Other than the fox, things went much better than I expected.

**June 928**

With a tired yet blissful smile, Elena presented me with a perfect little son. One day Alan, my son, you will continue my legacy. May gods give you strength and wisdom.

**December 928**

His majesty Lothaire II, King of West Francia passed away today due to complications related to his obesity, something he had been suffering from for much of his life. My lord, Louis was crowned as Louis III of West Francia, King of Brittany, West Francia and Burgundy.

**January 930**

Elena has given birth to a daughter. Beautiful she may be, but she is covered in patches that resemble scales more than they do human skin. We named her after Elena, or rather the Breton version of her name. May you grow wise beyond your years, Eleanor.

**October 930**

Snow ran away today. We were riding in the countryside, the loyal dog behind me, when he suddenly ran off to the plains. My retinue assure me he’ll be back... but what if he doesn’t? I couldn’t trust, so I chased after him.

Gods be praised, I found him only minutes later, happily wagging his tail, pretending nothing was wrong. Thank you, gods. What might have happened had I trusted my men? Would I find Snow again?

**January 932**

King Louis came to my castle today to award me. He has made me his new Chancellor, a prestigious office, even if I preferred Stewardhood. It _is_ what I was educated in, after all.

**June 934**

Elena has given birth to a third child, my second son. If all goes well, Richwin will succeed me in two of my counties, though _perhaps_ not, if I can keep them all under one banner.

**March 938**

Today, I have a rightful claim over the lands of Dyfed, west of my possessions in Wales, owned as of now by the Chief of Orkney. I _could_ have taken it by force, given its owners are followers of the old way and the lords here in Brittany care little for their rights over their lands, but with a rightful claim -no matter how easily fabricated- his fellows in Albion -and of those, there are many- won’t come to help. This will end beautifully; I can see it. And once I have Dyfed, I can rightfully claim myself the Jarl- that is to say, Duke- of a land of my own. I will leave Kemper today, and I will attack the Danes where it hurts them the most.

**April 938**

I have made land in Wales and joined my men in the siege of Penfro. I don’t expect it to take long, at most half a year, but by that point Hroker will have made ready for war on his own turf.

**September 938**

Dyfed has fallen, much more quickly than I expected. I will march forth to Ceredigion to occupy that other holding of the Danes in Wales as well, if only to make sure they won’t have anywhere to make land from. News from Caerdyd tells me the Danes attacked the fort, but were repulsed by its defenders sometime in August.

**October 939**

Things did not end as well as I expected. The Danes had more men than I knew, and they scrounged up an ally where I didn’t expect any. I’ve been made to parley a white peace. For now. I’ll be back, one way or the other.

**April 940**

Returning home in shame, I learned that Elena has given birth to my third son, a beautiful boy we named Tristan.

**August 943**

Snow has walked by my side for 17 years now. Longer than most dogs live, and passage of time does not spare dogs. As I kneel besides him, he wags his tail slowly, but he can’t raise his head. I sit by him, long into the night by the fire where we always sat, petting his white back. By the morning, his tail has stilled. I will miss you, Snow. May you find hares to chase all day wherever you are now.

**June 944**

Alan is all grown up now. A boy of ten and six, with a much better understanding of stewardship than me, his father and tutor who educated him. Gods be praised, he will be ready to take his lands once I pass on this realm.

**September 945**

We Ormings have always known that just like we were once guests in a foreign land, we ought to welcome others. Do onto others, as they say. Today, I had to put that to test for the first time. A stranger was brought before me, after waiting at the gates of my castle for a week.

An old, worldweary man hailing from further south in Hispania, a Saracen in faith, like most of them are, but willing to take the gods of my land or those of mine if it meant he and his family of four had somewhere safe to stay. I _have_ been looking for a new Marshal, have I not? I welcomed Amr Wadalqavarid and his family -two daughters and the wife- in, and they have settled fairly well, if I should say so myself.

**March 945**

The very heartlands of Roman Christendom are under attack by what they see as Infidels. Desperate Christian lord from all over Europe -that is to say, West Francia, Aquataine and part of Germany- have persuaded their Fylkir- The Pope to declare an intention of forging a righteous alliance to expel non-Christians in the name of St. George, their shieldpatron. This does not bode well. We the Ormings have tried to hide our true faith for this exact reason, but if Christian lords rise up against a foe in large numbers, who knows how it could end?

**July 948**

A Papal Envoy visited the court of King Louis in Paris itself, bringing news to all of us from Vatican. Pope Victor has issued a call to arms to all faithful Christian rulers. I was not willing to take part in this madness, but it took me one glare at the men and women of the realm to know that it was _expected_ of me, as a ‘Catholic’ count, to prepare my men in support of a most holy cause sponsored by the Universal Church itself. They aim for Jerusalem, held in Serkland by the Akabid Empire. Traveling there won’t be easy, and fighting the Saracens even harder. Then again, if we find victory, there is gold in the waiting, and more glory for my family.

I have elected my daughter, Eleanor, to take whatever land I am granted in case of victory. I’ll have to cease any and all plans for expansion until the damned crusade is over.

**August 949**

The time has come. The Crusade, backed primarily by the Gaelic king Crinan of Alba but also by a loose coalition of lands in Europe, myself included, have prepared for war. I will raise my levies and my men-at-arms, and I will sail for Jerusalem today. May Loki grant me luck in this deceit.

**September 949**

Made land, after months of travel, in Jaffa. Moved in to reinforce the bulk of the Crusades’ armies in their siege of Ghazza. Not that they’ll need us, but we’ll need their aid if the Saracens come for us. My armies stand poised to take part in the Crusade for Jerusalem. Loki willing, my deceit won’t come to bite me like his usually does, and we’ll find the victory they hope their St. George will give them.

**June 950**

Louis III is dead. He died naturally, even if somewhat young -then again, he had been in one war after the other for the duration of his reign. His thirdborn -second surviving- son, Adalbert was crowned in Brittany. I was understandably not present, given I was halfway across the world, fighting in a crusade for his god and all. Hopefully he won’t mind.

**September 950**

Lost most of my men in battle. The Saracens slaughtered all of us, outnumbering us twenty-nine to one. Thankfully I managed to escape, Alan alongside me. We’ll return home for now, gather our men for a second attack -if possible- though I don’t see _how_ it would be possible anytime soon. Hopefully they’ll not be that mad, eh?

**February 951**

Finally found our way home. Alan was much more enthused than I, given his firstborn son -and eventual successor- had been born nearly a year ago while he was on the road. Baldoen is a beauty like his father before him, with hair brown and eyes green like mine. The good news is, Dyfed is free for the taking now. Old Hroker died last year, and his little girl has little to help her keep her lands. I’ll march into Dyfed, take my new land, and then go back to Jerusalem. Maybe the Pope will appreciate the reinforcement?

**August 953**

I was in the camps around Penfro when I learned that my lands are in danger. Aethelsige of Wessex, a nobleman in the now-unified England, has come to claim Morgannwyg for his own. I’d _trust_ Adalbert to keep my lands safe, but I am not going to make the same mistake my grandfather did with his predecessor Louis. The Pope will have to wait. I will make Aethelsige sorry for his aggression.

**December 953**

Siege of Penfro has ended the way I wanted. Dyfed is mine. It is time to return to Morgannwyg and deal with Aethelsige. Somewhat of a less pleasing news, the so-called Warriors of St. George have found nothing but death and humiliation at the gates of Jerusalem. The Papacy has called off the war for now, and -as everyone else have also lost- there is nothing expected of me that I didn’t give.

**January 954**

Is this a curse of the Orming Counts? Ormr lost his sons to battle. Eskild lost his sons to battle and assassins. And now- Richwin is dead. Disfigured, mauled and left to die in the forests of Llanymddyfri while we fought with the Wessexers. It was a victory, but at what cost? My son?

_Court Sigurdr of Cornouaille finally found peace at the young age of 45 on 13 October 954. He died of unknown causes while fighting the forces of Aethelsige of Wessex in defense of his lands. A Zealous man of our Lord Jesus Christ, he fought in one of the greatest holy wars in our history against Saracens, though he found no success in his endeavors. He was succeeded in Dyfed and Leon by his grandson Dan; in Rennes by his son Rodric, in Sir Gaerfyrddin by his son Tristan, and in Cornouaille and Morgannwyg by his firstborn Alan._


	4. Journal of Alan mab Sigurdr, Lord of Cornouaille (954-982)

**October 954**

Is it not an indignity to be less powerful than your own nephew? One day, I will stand to go to Valhalla, and on that day, my son will take as many lands from me as his cousin, through no deeds of his own, holds _right now_. Damn you, father. Had you lived only mere months longer, we would hold all the land in our grasp. Now, I have to deal with Tristan and Rodric, both holding lands that are _rightfully mine_ , mocking me on my way to greatness.

Still have to deal with Aethelsige, though I don’t expect this war to go on for much longer. King Adalbert was gracious enough, or thoughtful enough, to give me the office of Steward in his realm. One day, I will take his crown from his grasp, and _then_ we will see who’s giving what dignity to whom.

**May 955**

Began the siege of Wareham. Let’s see how _you_ like getting your gold stolen, your people killed and your lands threatened, Aethelsige.

**November 955**

The War is over. My lands are mine, and the damned Adalbert accepted Aethelsige’s instrument of surrender before I could lay waste to his capital. On the bright side, I will get around to come home and see what I can do about Dan, Tristan and Rodric. Dan is the easiest to deal with, a mere babe, he can be done away with much quicker than my pesky brothers. Is it worth murder? Yes. Entirely. Absolutely.

**December 956**

Adalbert is dead. Smallpox, if my spies are to be trusted, though Vannes has not spoken a word of _how_ true this is. Succeeded in crown by his son Louis, now Louis II of Brittany. Why I am surrounded by so many child rulers I will never know.

And I have a second son as well. Prigent is beautiful, and he is mine. Hopefully, he won’t have the same relations with his brother as I am about to have with mine.

**July 957**

Dan mab Richwin, Count of Brest and Dyfed is dead. He swallowed the bait, puddle and all, and within minutes he was dead. Thankfully none but my own mind know of what I had to do to take back my- _I had to do this, I had to do this_. I will deal with Tristan next. Odin, Thor, Frigg, whoever it is that is listening, please do not make me do this again.

**January 968**

Caerfyrddin has fallen to my men, and it is mine once more. Tristan gave the crown peacefully, and I have allowed him to leave where his heart desires. Gods be praised. Rodric can keep his pesky little county. I have what I need, and he is no longer of concern to me. To do what I am about to next, I will need more gold however. Once I have my treasury filled, I can crown myself Duke of Deheubarth, and once I have that crown, my lands will, no matter how many children I leave, remain in Baldoen’s hand. I can only hope that he will come to forgive me once he grows up, succeeds me and finds what I have written.

**April 960**

Two years since I took Caerfyrddin, and now, it is time for me to crown myself, once and for all, the Duke of Deheubarth. It is a new day for the Orming Dynasty, and I have brought it upon us with nothing but bad blood and eternal guilt. Gods forgive me.

**July 960**

Gytha of Slesvig is dead. With her death, her realms -mostly in Jylland- have been gobbled by her daughters. The new Lady of Slesvig is weak, much weaker than her predecessor, and she has no allies. The time has come to make ready to take back the last pieces of Brittany still under Danish hold.

**January 962**

Another council meeting, another conflict. Macsen, my Steward and Bledric, the Bishop imposed on me by King Louis II are arguing violently about the upcoming building projects. As the duke I could have silenced them with but a word, but it is more amusing to see them talk and talk, and decide to do whatever I wish regardless of their opinions.

**May 962**

Louis IV of West Francia is dead. Cause of dead unknown, though the circumstances behind it are certainly curious enough that someone may have a secret they’d want to share with me. King Louis of Brittany, the late king’s nephew, was crowned today as Louis V, King of West Francia, Brittany and Burgundy. Taking away my position as his steward, he gave me a new office as his Chancellor.

**December 962**

I’ve fallen ill today. The physician thinks it is something that will come and go, but I know for sure. I can see Dan staring at me from the window, through the mirrors, across the hall. I can see him playing with Baldoen and Prigent, staring at me with innocent, big eyes. He is coming for me. I know it.

**May 963**

Louis has been toppled from the throne of West Francia. A coalition of his West Francian vassals led by Foulques, the Count of Brie Françiase, has taken his place. Louis, now Louis V of Burgundy and Brittany, has called forth his men to war to take back West Francia. Is it a good time now to strike against his holdings in Brittany? Or should I first busy myself with taking back Nantes?

**November 963**

Freyja, my Spymaster, has come to me with terrible news. While I do not know _who_ it is yet, someone is planning to have me killed… I must prepare to stop this murderer at once.

**June 964**

There has been an attempt on my life. A noise like that of an assassin stumbling on a chamber pot pulled me out of my late-night slumber. I thought about shouting for the guards, but I would be faster. When he came to kill me, I drove the dagger I hide under by pillow into his neck. The intruder died. Slowly, painfully. On him, I found a missive that-

Gods damn him. Ljudevit? My Steward? He’s the one who tried to have me killed. I sent for him the day after, but he has fled since. If and when I find him, he will beg for mercy, and he will not find any. I replaced him with my nephew, Iehan mab Eleanor. Hopefully _he_ won’t wish me ill.

**March 966**

Baldoen is a man today. His education completed and ready for joining real life as an adult. With sufficient tutelage, even one without a natural inclination to it can become proficient in the matters of administration. Baldoen has taken this a step further, he’s not content with merely _understanding_ the flow of wealth and people, he can all but predict it. Cuthburg’s contributions to his education cannot be forgotten either, her guidance helped him far more than what I alone could have managed. I am so proud of him. Be brave, my son, and come to forgive me one day when you can understand.

**December 966**

Life isn’t going as well as he had hoped for King Louis. Not only has he been dredged in a war with Foulques for the last three years, he has also been attacked by Neustria and Brescia over some of his lands in Italy. What’s more, now there’s news of a coalition of his vassals in Burgundy rising against his tyrannical rule to restore some semblance of liberty and restoration of our rights as his vassals. This is good. If he loses, I will have a freer hand as I wish it. If he wins, I was one of the loyal ones who never took up arms against him.

To makes things a bit nicer, Baldoen has a child of his own now. Alan is as beautiful a boy as his father was at that age. Or, well, what I assume he was. At that time, I wasn’t home to see my son. Little Alan, the future of the House of Orming.

**June 967**

Louis has ended his war with King Foulques in a stalemate. He still holds a claim to that throne, but for now the lion’s share of King Louis IV’s realms will fall under the hands of Foulques and the House of Karling-Montereau. With Foulques out of his way, Louis will have a much easier way to deal with Brescia and his vassals, I suppose.

**September 967**

Fought with raiders from Nantes, trying to sack the churches in my land. Gave them a right thrashing, but Baldoen has suffered some wounds.

**March 968**

An army led by the Dauphin of Viennois has besieged Louis V’s fort in Vannes, marking a likely end to the vassals’ war. Most of his armies have been sundered long ago. Louis doesn’t have long before he is made to capitulate.

**June 968**

The time has come. I will strike against Ingibjorg of Slesvig to take the lands of her vassals in Nantes. Brittany will be reunified if I have anything to say about it. I have amassed enough wealth to hire enough men to make sure the fool won’t stand to oppose me. I have gathered all my forces, and I will move for Nantes at the break of dawn.

**December 968**

The Siege of Nantes is over. It took us much less than I expected, and thus far I have yet to see the Danes come to fight. I will sail for Slesvig to strike at their heart next. My brother Rodric, count of Rennes has also joined me in my endeavors against the Danes. Maybe not touching him was a good choice, he is loyal to me.

**September 969**

Faced the Danes inside Vannes. An army of 1,500 men led by the High Chiefess herself. The battle itself wasn’t notable. We came at them at dawn, struck down most of her levies and the few armored men she had managed to gather around, but -strangely enough- more of them were killed while retreating than they were in the battle itself. We captured the chiefess and one of her champions. The War is over. Nantes is mine.

Bledric insists that we must send forth men to convert the land -taken during the reign of my ancestor Ormr himself, about a century ago- to the way of the Christ. Baldoen, my son, heir and steward, insists we must take to bring Breton livelihood back to this land, which has been all-but settled by the Vikings. Much is there to be done, especially as I am not the most powerful man in Brittany.

**May 970**

I don’t know what to feel about Louis. He lost most of his lands in Brittany. My estranged brother Tristan has raised a host and taken Leon -once belonging to Dan- as well as Penthievre and Vannes which were Louis’. What right did he have to give _my_ lands away?

On the other hand, he gave me the dukedom of Brittany instead, given he has all but lost all his lands in the area. Tristan has become a thorn in my side I did not expect. I should have done with him what I had with Dan all those years ago.

**September 970**

I have attacked Tristan over his holdings in Leon. Vannes and Penthievre I will strike later, but for now, I can only strike where I can. Bledric is still busy with bringing the poor folk in Nantes back to the way of his crucified God. I won’t _truly_ need to keep fighting Tristan. He is not long for this world, and he is childless. Once he finally passes, may Hel take him, his lands will have to go to me. And I suppose I can do my best to ease his passing and make it happen faster.

**January 974**

Louis’ last war is over. He signed an instrument of surrender, issuing his vassals -me included- a free hand to deal in what we will. Gods bless liberty and Hel take tyrants.

**December 976**

It is done. Nantes is both Breton and Catholic, after six years of constant battling against its population. Can I, at this day and age, even call myself a follower of the Old Gods? Am I faithful? My father fought a crusade for these Catholics, and I’ve converted a land of my people for them… what would the Danes think of me if they knew my family hailed from Denmark? I will have to send Baldoen to work on bringing Breton culture to Rennes. It is far less difficult for me to make this decision, as it is held by -and full of- French, and its settlers have been here not as long as the Norsemen were in Nantes.

**February 977**

The gods smile upon me. Ljudevit is finally dead. His death leaves much to be desired, in his sleep, in his own bed and of old age, but that man tried to kill me, and with him finally dead -and with his line ending with him- I feel freer than I have ever before.

**April 977**

Tristan is dead, killed by bandits while en route to visit his so-called ‘holdings’ in Penthievre. While it is good news to me and mine -as I now hold all of Brittany in my grasp- it is… there is something wrong with this. I can easily see that there is more to this death than it seems. Who else, other than me, would want to have him killed? Who would stand to benefit? I must know, and soon.

For now, I have once again prepared to move my family to Vannes. As dukes of Brittany, we rule from its traditional capital, rather than our own ancestral home. I feel that I have too many lands to personally control. It won’t hurt, I think, to hand over my personal holdings in Deheubarth to Prigent. He _will_ stand to inherit the dukedom once I die, might as well prepare him for what his life is about to be.

**January 978**

The Duchess of Neustria has bidden war against Louis to take my lands in Penthievre. We’ll see about that now, won’t we?

**July 978**

Fought against Berthe of Neustria in Sant-Brieg, Penthievre. The troops were roughly equal in numbers, though more of hers were poorly trained farmers, and most of mine were soldiers my ancestors have trained all our lives for this particular type of eventuality. Rodric, gods forgive him, died in battle as my second in command, but we _did_ capture the duchess. The mayor of Rais proved himself well in the battle, wounding seven of Berthe’s knights and killing 20 all by himself.

**July 981**

As I walked the corridors of my palace, frustrated, many of my courtiers seem to be droning on and on about some problem someone or the other is having in Gwened. Odin’s sake, isn’t that _why_ I gave that damned Welsh hellhole to Prigent? This isn’t even that problematic, you don’t need me to tell you how to tax some thing or the other. But wait, that was _my_ law that caused this problem. My taxations when I was in need of gold to justify my creating the Dukedom of Deheubarth… A stiff drink will solve this for me. It solved the problem of seeing Dan everywhere, so it can’t be _too_ bad, right? The problem in Gwened can be solved by Prigent. That’s why I made him lord of Gwened, isn’t it?

**January 981**

Bledric died today. His successor as bishop is a bore. The man isn’t as smart, learned or even charming as the old Breton, and his ways are less subtle. Gods damn me, I can see I am on my way as well. Nothing can help me. Even the drink won’t solve anything. Now that my children have family of their own, I see Dan _everywhere_. Would he be like Onfroy, Rodric’s boy now? Would he be like Alan, Baldoen’s firstborn? Would he be ambitious? Would he have had children of his own now?

Was this truly worth it? My only relief is that I won’t have to see Richwin when I die. He’ll drink in Valhalla, and I’ll toil in Hel until the end times come and we fight once again.

_Duke Alan of Brittany rests in the arms of the Lord at 53 years of age. Dead of frozen grief for the many suspicious deaths his family suffered at his time, he finally gave up the ghost on the 19 th of April, 982. In his dukedom of Deheubarth, he was succeeded by his son Prigent, while the lion’s share of his lands went to Baldoen mab Alan, Lord of the Bretons. _


	5. Journal of Baldoen mab Alan, Duke of Brittany (982-988)

**April 982**

Father died today. Met with Prigent for the first time in years -since he was made lord of Gwenned. Duke of Brittany, huh? That will be an interesting throne to handle. Father may have done some things I’m not proud of, but damn him if he wasn’t good at procuring land. I might need to follow his way -not with murder, but with war, intrigue and marriage. If I can break free from Louis V’s hold now, I could crown myself King of Brittany.

**June 982**

Talked with the count of Maastricht. He made some good points about whether Louis _truly_ has a right to rule us. What right does a Frenchman have over lands of Bretons or the Dutch? We pledged to fight on the same side if, or when, it becomes necessary to use war for our cause of freedom.

**September 982**

The Pope came to my home today. He has called for Catholic rulers such as myself to procure men to strike at the Saracens’ heart once more and free Jerusalem from their grasp. I did not refuse. If we win, I might manage to find some lands for my aunt Freyja, or maybe her son.

**October 983**

The time has come. The Crusade has been launched. Alba, Lothringia, and the Papacy will lead the war with their larger manpower. I will stick by their side to help as much as I can.

**July 985**

The crusade is over. We barely did a thing. Alba didn’t even show up, and the Pope’s forces were more willing to raid the countryside than help us besiege Jerusalem. The Akabid Caliph’s forces have found victory, and the Catholic Kingdoms return home empty handed. Made it home today, and Alan has had a daughter. She was born a year ago, and if she ever succeeds him as Duke -or god willing, King- I will know peace.

Prigent died today. Murdered, if the word is true. He was succeeded by his son Eusubi as Duke of Deheubarth. May his gods welcome him to his afterlife well.

**February 987**

King Louis V is dead, may St. Peter grant him passage through his gate. He has been succeeded in both her thrones by his daughter Pernette. Once she dies, the reign of the House of Vernon will be over, and a ruler from the Gaelic house of Ailpin will take her place. The time to strike for independence is now.

_Baldoen, Duke of Brittany died at the age of 37 under suspicious circumstances on 1 February 988. His firstborn, Alan succeeded him as Duke, though much of his lands went to his other two sons who would serve as Alan’s vassals._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short chapter, this one. It's because not much happened in the reign of Baldoen mab Alan. The next few chapters might also be considerably shorter than the first four.


	6. Journal of Alan II mab Baldoen, Duke of Brittany (988-996)

**February 988**

Father died today. It was an assassin. We never found the man -or whoever it was that hired him. I was made Duke of Brittany at the court of Queen Pernette in Neuchatel. I will be the duke my father couldn’t live long enough to be. I will finish what he started, and leave my realm in the good hands of my daughter, or -god willing- a son if we have any.

**July 989**

Queen Pernette has declared war on Sigismond II, King of West Francia over her claims to his kingdom. If this is to go the way its predecessor did, all those year ago under the reign of her father against Foulques, it will take long, and it will -if she fails to achieve victory- give me the perfect reason to call for independence. For now, I will build my forces with the money I procure as her Steward, but when the time comes, I will strike.

**September 991**

Father had a point. Murder is as important a tool in politic as arms and diplomacy. Take Queen Pernette for example. She rules my lands, and if I am to find greatness, I ought to defeat her in war. She is, however, allied with the King of Scotland, Ireland and Asturias by her marriage to his son. If I am to make sure I have any form of a chance fighting against her, I need to take the King, Ercaid MacErcaid out first.

And I ought to be fast in what I am about to do. There is a thing inside me that which is not me. It eats its way through my flesh, feeding off my life force, its strength increasing as I wither away. I push my hands at the growth under my skin -if only I could tear it out, if only it were that easy. The thought of it growing makes me want to puke. Against such an enemy, there can be no victory, and yet I have little choice but send for a physician now. The longer I can postpone the inevitable the better.

** March 992 **

There is no hope. With Alba’s help, Pernette has taken West Francia once again. I will cease my planning. My Beladora can finish what I started once Pernette has died and her realms splintered as these Frenchmen are so fond of.

**November 992**

Learned that Ava, the Countess of Provence, had taken her suffragan bishop as a lover. What fun. Ava is Pernette’s spymaster. With her on board -and it was quite easy, dangling my secret in front of her, to convince her to join- Ercaid will be dead in no time.

**January 993**

My agents had prepared for weeks. The cook has been bribed to look the other way, the poison has been acquired, and a duck was gifted to his majesty the King-Consort. It was rubbed by the poison and the bed of herbs hid whatever note of it that was he might have detected. The deadly bitterness will be all he will know. I wish it was sweet, but we can’t have everything.

Thanks to the duck and the poison vial, he is finally dead. Even better, in his death throes a bone got stuck in his throat. For all I know the poison could have been all but innocent, and it was merely him suffocating in his gluttony.

I had better start hiding this journal. Who knows what some might think if they were to find it?

**September 993**

The Countesses of Provence, Sable and Macon have also joined me in my attempt for independence. To be fair, they had little choice not to. Now, all I need is to find Pernette weak, allyless. Kinghood is not that far from me, and I won’t stand not to have it.

**February 994**

The time is upon us. I sent an ultimatum to Pernette. We outnumber her forces, and she is already busy in another war. She had no choice but to grant us independence. All of us. Today, I am the Duke of Brittany, and today I am beholden to none.

**September 994**

My spymaster came to me a few days ago with grave news. My brother -and friend- Guallon has been trying to kill his own nephew. When I sent men to arrest him to stand trial for his crimes, he took up arms in rebellion against me. We’ll see who laughs last, brother.

**December 994**

Caught up with Guallon’s armies in Treguier. The battle was short. Most of them died, we caught _one_ of his knights, but Guallon himself fled. Will besiege his capital before he can call for any allies.

**March 994**

Had to leave the siege with most of my men as news came that Guallon has found himself an ally in Leicester. The Leicestrian earl sent forth some forces into Brittany, but I know we can take them.

**April 994**

Defeated Leicester’s armies in Porhoet, will return to besiege Kemper.

**February 996**

The war is over. Guallon is in my dungeons, at least until I figure out _what_ to do with him. For now, I have retreated to bed. My cancer has become worse, and the stresses of dealing with all this may just be what breaks me.

_Duke Alan II of Brittany rests at the arms of the Lord at 29 years of age on 21 June 996. Died from cancer, he was at the prime of his life and will forever be remembered for his stunning beauty. In his lands, he was succeeded by Beladora. At that point in time, only 11 years of age, she would rely on the rule of her regent mother for some of her early years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another extremely short chapter. I'm sorry, some of my characters just don't live that long.


	7. Journal of Beladona verch Alan, Duchess of Brittany (994-1019)

**July 994**

Mother tells me father has gave up the ghost. He was not well for much of the later years, I know that, but I will miss him. To make things worse, as my regent, she will make some decisions for me until I come of age.

**August 994**

Uncle Guallon’s trial was held today. I still can’t believe he wanted me dead. What did I ever do to him? Was it only for a lust after my lands? Mother tells me I ought to behead him for treason or else risk losing much of my land once he inherits the lands of great-uncle Eusebi in Wales, but- can I do that? I would be as bad as him. I decided otherwise. I will take his lands from him in Brittany, and once I have done that, I will release him.

**July 998**

There was a commotion today. A lowly thief was given a death sentence by a local judge that I have been said to have appointed. One of the children in court wanted to know if this was a just punishment. Honestly, so would I. Is execution really a punishment that fits theft? Would I sentence a man to die if he had stolen something from me? That is not godly, and it is not civil. A punishment should fit the crime.

**January 999**

Ricard has been pestering me for a while now. The vicious little bastard has been mocking me, pushing me around. I can’t get him to stop, no matter what I do. Even reminding him he will one day stand as _my_ underling doesn’t get him to stop. He’s the worst.

**July 1000**

With the help of mother, uncle Eudon and Lorens, I have finally finished my education. While some of the highest aspects of intrigue elude me, I have surpassed mine and everyone else’s expectation, and learned more of it than most.

As I take the first steps into adulthood, now a ruler with no regent, I find myself reminiscing about my childhood. Even now, I have yet to forgive Ricard. Everytime I see him, my mood turns sour.

**May 1006**

Constans MacCathmael mac Gille-Faelain is sixteen now, and as such it is time we wed. Neither of us had a choice in this pairing, if I am to be honest -people like him seldom do, and people like me even less. Thankfully, he’s a nice man to be around, a good conversationalist too, in subjects he is knowledgeable in -and there are few that he isn’t. He _is_ six years younger than me, but then again, that’s not much compared to what’s going on everywhere around us.

The realm expects us to throw a suitably extravagant wedding celebration. It is good, if my subjects are jubilant and merry, I have less problems.

**October 1006**

A child is growing within my womb.

**May 1007**

When the first contractions started, a great calm came over me. There was no room for worries from before -I was serving Freyja, about to perform St. Brigid’s greatest miracle. The struggle was long, but equally glorious. I brought forth a perfect little boy.

When I stare at his eyes, Gualter looks smart. As smart as his father before him -and Constans is _smart_ , quite possibly one of the smartest in all of Brittany. Thankfully, he has my beauty. May you live long and prosper, my son. You shoulder the burden of this house’s eternal glory.

**July 1007**

Uncle Eudon came to my room today with some terrible news. While we don’t know _who_ , someone is trying to have me killed. Whoever they are, they won’t be the first -my own uncle would have that honor- but they will fail just as the rest have.

**November 1007**

A plush carpet, vibrant and soft arrives as a gift from Aymar, the duke of Aquitaine. I think I know what’s going on. But why would Aymar want to have me killed? Or is he being the dupe through which an assassin will come to my home? I will have to get rid of this.

**December 1007**

Great-Uncle Eusebi has broken off from my hold as the head of the House of Orming to form his own cadet branch. He and his family have fancied themselves the new House of Orming-Tyddewi, with the sigil of Sir Gaerfyrddin as the identifying emblem on his house’s Coat of Arms. Hm. The Orming Dynasty. I think I like the sound of that.

**March 1008**

As my belly grows so does my unease. This is not the first time I am with child, but this ominous sensation is new. Something is amiss.

The cramps come at night. And at morning, I find my sheets bloody and ruined. Oh, my child. What would you have become? I am pregnant no more.

**November 1009**

My relief is great and my joy even greater. When I learned I was with child, I was worried it would happen again, and yet I have given birth to a perfect little daughter. My little Elara. Who will you become, and what will become of you?

**April 1015**

I have two sons, five children in whole. My sons, Riuallon and Garmon, are as beautiful and as smart as their older brother. Life is good.

_Duchess Beladora of Brittany passed on at 35 years of age on 28 November 1019, having drank way into an early grave. Famous forever for her beauty and not much else, Beladora was succeeded in her lands by her three sons, the firstborn -Gaulter- was duke and the other two as lords of some of the dukedom’s lands._


	8. Journal of Gaulter mab Beladora, Duke of Brittany (1020-1056)

**December 1020**

It’s the end of an era. With Ercaid macDub-Dil dead, his lands have been divided. While Scotland, Andalusia -and much of England, to the chargin of Osuf, the Anglo-Saxon King- remain at the hands of the choice of Scotland’s Tanists, Ireland -as well as Asturias- have been taken by his son Congus. I’m not entirely sure _why_ , but I feel this may be what eventually brings Scottish domination of Britannia to an end.

**May 1023**

With the help of my father, my bishop and my uncles, I have finished my education. As I step into adulthood, I find myself reminiscing about some of the people who’ve made an impact on me. The friendship I shared with my brother Rouillon meant a lot to me when we were younger, and it means much to still have him by my side. Count Garmon and what he put me through, I’ll never forget, and yet I wonder if Iarncant has the same feeling about me and what _I_ did to him. I might need to apologize at some point, huh?

**February 1024**

Ricart, Count of Rennes and my distant kin -probably can find a common ancestor five generations ago, but we are kin nonetheless- has been pestering me to press his claim on the county of Sable. On one hand, I don’t want to. On the other hand, Sable is nearby… and maybe if I do this, I can find a way to stay with Geberga, his daughter and heir some more months. It’s battle, and she will have to, at least, oversee things along us, no?

**June 1025**

I was passing through the castle gardens for an evening stroll when a soft breeze carried the voices of Drost and Rannoeu to my ears. The two were talking in a secluded corner nearby -I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t adept in the matters of intrigue myself. It was clear they were talking about Count Eudon… curious, I took further to hear _what_ they were talking of. Curious indeed, though not entirely important; they were talking about Eudon and his unsavory habits. This time in particular, it was rumors about the supposed heritage of a Galician noble who died before I was even born.

I wonder if I can dangle this little secret of his in front of Eudon if, or rather _when_ , he feels himself above his station.

**October 1025**

Praise St. Brigid. Ava, my wife of two years, has given birth to a healthy little son. Custent, you will one day succeed me. I hope to ensure it won’t be anytime soon. Our line, it appears, is cursed with dead dukes and depressed nobles.

**August 1029**

A second son. I find myself disappointed by my Custent. If it comes to a choice between him and his younger brother… what will I have to do?

**December 1029**

They call it the disease of kings for a reason… as if there’s anything luxurious about my swollen, aching joints. If that’s what it took, I’d sooner give up the throne if it meant my pains won’t reach their peak.

**March 1031**

Bad news all around. Aroc, the Princess of Scotland -one on whom I was sweet back when we were both children- is with child… She has said nothing, but could this be the result of _our_ dalliance? She certainly seems so. Someone may have heard her, but here we remain silent. None can know about this.

**November 1031**

And yet I can’t stop myself. As the shadows lengthened, I found Pernette, queen of Galicia, in the darkness beneath the castle of Viseu, waiting for me. Aroc’s child has already been born, and none -save the two of us- know she is truly mine. Will Pernette be the same?

**April 1032**

Ava is pregnant again. I have yet to see Pernette again, at least alone -we still mock the noblemen of her kingdom, as well as my duchy, together but we have yet to find the time for fooling around as we used to. My Bishop suggests that there is a basis for a claim over some land in Sardinia… Will I sail into the Mediterranean next?

**January 1036**

Prepared for the invasion of Galluru. I will sail to the Mediterranean Sea, and like my forefathers before me, I will tame a land my own.

**March 1037**

Things did not go as well as I expected. I have made land in Sardinia, but my enemies are much more powerful than I am. My ally the King of Aquitaine has yet to send in the men he had promised me, and the levies I sent saw a greater appeal raiding the countryside than helping my siege. I am no commander, and they all know that.

**June 1037**

Fought with the Judike in his holdings in Galteki. Lost 700 men -nearly two-thirds of all of mine- but took some important knights of his hostage while they retreated. I haven’t enough men to complete a siege, and he has no reason to think I am victorious, even if my armies could defeat his again and again. I returned home in dismay. I will be back.

**July 1048**

Fought with the Duke of Orleans to help my vassal Count Gualter keep his lands in Rennes. Didn’t end well. Lost Rennes to the West Franks. In somewhat less displeasing news, my sister Berthildis married the duke of York, and their children -fellow Ormings- will soon stand to inherit it all.

**June 1050**

Ailbrenn MacLiam, Duke of York has abdicated to the swarm of his vassals, leaving his son -my nephew- Ricart as successor. I may be able to use his men in my return to Sardinia.

Sent the Bishop to find some claim or the other in Sardinia. Hopefully, my second invasion will go better than the first.

**March 1052**

Vassals -and courtiers- not happy with me. Don’t see _why_ I keep taking their gold. Maybe if I capture more land, they will see the reasoning behind my actions? I may not have much long in this world, I’ve treated my gout thus far, but I only need to get unlucky _once_.

**December 1052**

Declared war on the Duke of Corsica for his holdings in Sardinia. The new duke of York, as well as my ally in Aquitaine, sent forth soldiers to help me. Let’s hope that fool Bertrand knows what he is doing _this time_.

**July 1053**

Made it to Sardinia, made land in the northwestern coast of the island near the city of Porto Torres. Fought the armies of Corsica under the Archon Rinaldo in the plains between Porto Torres and his fortress in Sassari. The battle was quick, if somewhat bloody. Moved further west, across the hillsites to prepare for the siege of Sassari.

**August 1053**

Bertrand II finally managed to join my forces, bringing a fresh relief of reinforcements. Fought Corsicans coming from the north in Olbia. We defeated them, but Bertrand’s left with half of his men to chase them across the straits into the island of Corsica itself. I’d rather he do that than trust him with the siege. For all I know, he might win but I suspect he’ll more likely make a fool of himself.

**September 1053**

Sassari fell to my forces today. The governor handed over the fortress, and I’ve moved in to help Bertrand over in Corsica with those of my men that were left after we refilled the fort’s garrison. Left Matuid, my long-time Marshal to restore order in the county while I go to make life just that much harder for dear old Rinaldo.

**November 1053**

Finally caught up with Rinaldo in Bonifacio. Fearful he might retreat back to his capital and wait for us to besiege him, but he surrendered instead. Glory to the Ormings!

**December 1054**

I will have to strike again for Gallura again soon. My men are ready, and my coffers filled. The Judike may have more men, but mine are better. I _will_ give my second son a duchy of his own before I give up the ghost. This I swear.

**May 1055**

Attacking Gallura will have to wait. Years of discontent has led Garmon -my brother and the Count of Cornouaille- to take up arms against me with hopes of taking my thrones. I have called forth my men to take the fight to him and him first.

**July 1055**

Caught up with Garmon’s forces outside of Sant-Brieg. Gaulter of Nantes -my vassal and distant kin- killed my nephew, Cuntest in the chaos of the battle. I suppose it couldn’t be helped. His whole line is rotten for all I care.

**October 1055**

Caught up with the retreating forces of Garmon back in his capital in Kemper, with a similar result. I will besiege Kemper, and once I have Garmon, I’ll have all his lands taken from him once and for all.

**January 1056**

Some of Garmon’s men -backed by some mercenaries he hired- have besieged my home in Gwened. I can bet I’ll take his castle before he has a hope of taking mine. The poor bastards in Kemper are starving, sickness is rampant, and there’s been a small breach in the fort’s western walls. An assault will be all it takes.

**April 1056**

Cornouaille has fallen to my hands. Garmon has ceased his siege on Gwened to say he is more than willing to give up. We negotiated some -by law, I must have him executed and his lands all confiscated… but I am not willing to go that extra mile. I took his capital and banished him to the edges of Breton lands. He will spend some time in my dungeons, but I don’t think I will keep him there for long. There is a new war about to come, and I have no hopes of winning it without him.

_Duke Gaulter of Brittany found peace in Christ’s embrace at 49 years of age on 23 rd of June 1056. He died gout ridden. Known well for his twisted mind and conniving person, he never revealed his true nature to any, even his own family. He was succeeded in his dukedom by his firstborn Custent, though all of his other lands went to his younger sons. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to (relatively) longer chapters now. These characters lived relatively longer, and had relatively more adventurous lives.


	9. Journal of Custent mab Gaulter, Duke of Brittany (1056-1096)

**November 1056**

Father’s little war has left a mess of everything. We don’t have the manpower and gold for a conflict of that scale, nor the control one requires to keep what lands he has taken in Sardinia. Guithrit -my youngest brother, barely 20 and count of Cornouaille for only a few months- gave up the ghost disease-ridden, and he had the best fate among those lost. I’ve made peace with the Judike for now, to return home and see what mess father had made of his domestic affairs.

**August 1059**

Was invited by my brother Budoc to a feast. This isn’t _abnormal_ , feasts are an integral part of diplomacy in a realm. What’s strange is that my brother lives in Sardinia, it might as well take me longer to get there and back than it would if I was to wage war. Then again, I _am_ planning on striking at Corsica like my father before me. This will only help get familiar with the general area.

I listen carefully as Budoc drones on and on. He’s always been talkative… but what he reveals _now_ is only the most delicious of news. He’s taken a young commoner as his lover. Ah, young love. I will have to remember this the next time I need something from the chatterbox, don’t I?

**November 1061**

I have finally amassed enough men and fortune to attack the Archon of Corsica once again. I have aimed for the Judicadu of Arboria. I will set sail for Corsica at dawn.

**July 1062**

Arborea is under my control. I left the county to fight Corsicans besieging my brother’s holding in Sassari a few days ago. Fought the archon himself near his camps in Sassari. The battle was fierce, but there was only one way it could end. Rinaldo was wounded heavily in the battle, but managed to scurry away. Went further north to cross the straits and besiege some of the Archon’s holdings in his own island.

**March 1063**

Bonifacio is under my control. We’ve looted as much as we could from the countryside and taken as many hostages as we could find, but now I will move back into Sardinia to keep my new holdings secure.

**May 1063**

Fought, and defeated, Corsica’s forces trying to take back Arborea. The battle was short and swift, and at its end, the new Archon -Radul II, Ribaldo’s son- surrendered Arborea to me without any further need for bloodshed.

**July 1064**

The Judike of Bastia, an underling of Radul’s, made war on me to take my brother’s lands in Longudoro. Boduc was lucky I was still here. We’ll sail for his land; bet we can capture Bastia quicker than he can occupy all of my Sardinian lands.

**November 1065**

It took much longer than I had expected, and yet the war is over. Lodovico gave up, handed over some of his gold and went back home once it became obvious that I had his lands occupied. I will remain in the Middle Sea for a few more months. Just in case.

**October 1066**

The smell hit me before the door was opened; a heavy and meaty odor that permeates the area; the stench of the newly dead. Yet another body has been found in our midst. They’re all people of lesser importance -commoners, maybe some of the castle’s personnel- but it is only a matter of time before the court gets nervous. There is a murderer in our midst. I will _scour_ this castle to find him.

**November 1066**

My dear Felicia. I may have not _loved_ you, as there are few marriages between our kind that are built upon love, yet I feel your passing more acutely than I ever thought possible. You were always there, a constant companion. Did I take you for granted? So many things there are left unsaid… I hope you find peace in the afterlife, my dear giantess. I hope to make you proud.

**December 1066**

“I thought long and hard, my liege” one of my courtiers -a young Breton who’s fallen in love with me, said as she put a basket on my table gently. “Something to help pass your grief. A such companion once did so for some others I have known.” It is a little puppy, a thing of beauty with brown fur and loyal eyes. Amiable, my new companion. I owe my courtiers much.

**September 1067**

“Parts of a body were found, my lord” a guard told me today, pointing at the aforementioned parts on a table near us. Nothing to identify _who_ the victim -or victims- were. I can’t do this alone. I’ll have to issue my request of help for all in my land or outside of it.

**January 1068**

What would my forefathers think of me if they knew? In the few years I’ve been away, the French have chipped away at my lands -the Dukes of Orleans have taken Rennes and Nantes. I can’t hope to keep them out all by myself. I will _have_ to join them. I sent a request, swearing fealty to Geraud, King of West Francia if he would take it.

I am a vassal of the king of France now, and his Chancellor. I will remain so until I can procure my lands back -and, god willing, take some more of my own. King of Brittany and West Francia… I like the sound of that.

**May 1068**

Uncle Garmon has tried his hand at taking the throne of Brittany _again_. My father giving him a thrashing was, it seemed, not enough for the man. I took up arms again today.

**August 1068**

Made it to Brest. Prepared for a lengthy siege today. No sign of Garmon, though my brother Ludoc has also been suspiciously silent.

**September 1068**

For the first time, an important man has died. Helgi, a guest in my court, lays splayed out on the cold floor, blood oozing from his many stab wounds. Why is this murderer taunting me so? Is it someone I know? I’ll have to make sure everyone’s accounted for.

**August 1069**

I’ve been captured by my uncle Garmon’s forces. I was made to surrender my throne as duke, but still left with my counties. This humiliation will not stand, I swear it.

A mysterious man has searched me out after hearing of my call for help regarding this murderer. Roenualloc, or something of that mind. Maybe he can help me while I ponder on _how_ to take my lands back.

**June 1070**

The poor bastard who came to help is the next victim. As sun rose, I was greeted by the news that Roenualloc had been murdered. Brutally gutted and laid to be seen by whoever walked past. But then, hours later we finally found peace.

“My count,” I can still remember the guardsman saying, “Dubravka and Gaulter have both been found missing.” By gods, I thought it was Dubravka, my daughter-in-law, wishing to kill my son… the truth was much worse. It was my son who had done all that. We caught him red handed. Dagger at hand, advancing for the woman he had sworn to be the greatest defender of. What monstrosity. I had no choice but to let him go. I have no other children, and I’m too old for a second wife. Gaulter’s secret will have to remain hidden to me and his wife. I fear for the day he comes to inherit. God save us all.

**July 1073**

After eight years of marriage, Gaulter finally has a son. Little Gurthcid, the future of my house. May you grow wise and strong, my grandson.

**May 1076**

Garmon is dead. His grandson, a Prussian Balt from the house of Wilks, has taken his place as my so-called Liege. He is nothing to me. I will remove him, and anyone else that stands in my way to retake my throne. I’ve raised my banners against this Prussian fiend today.

**March 1076**

Captured the brat and his father, in battle right outside of Brest. He surrendered the Dukedom to me once again, but for now, I’ll have to let him keep his little castle in Brest.

**November 1079**

My cousin Ricart mab Berthildis, the Earl of Elmet -though he used to be Duke of York itself- has, like my Welsh kin before him, decided to find a new destiny as head of a new branch of our dynasty. He fancies himself the head of the House of Orming-Ripon, his earldom’s banners crossed alongside our traditional lion on red. A Dynasty with three branches. We are going places, are we not?

**January 1080**

Dubravka, my daughter-in-law has given birth again. The poor thing she has let into the world is a beautiful girl with her -and my- brown hair but she is barren, her womb forever sworn to emptiness. Gods forgive me, I can’t blame her. Dubravka’s nearly too old to give birth, and their marriage is loveless, even for that of a nobleman.

**November 1081**

Amiable died today. She walked by my side for years, and the passage of time does not spare the hound just as it won’t the man. Once, she was energetic and her very presence brought happiness to us. Even now, she still wags her tail when she sees me. But it’s slower. She cannot raise her head.

I spent the night with her by the fire, petting her brown fur until the tail stilled. I will miss you, my friend.

**December 1082**

I’ve struck at Gallura for the third time in my life. The old Judike’s death has splintered his lands, and the new Judike, Carolu de Lacon of Gallura, has neither friends nor the men to withstand me. I’ve sent forth Budoc to prepare the siege by the time I make it across the Mediterranean.

**March 1083**

The fool Boduc couldn’t do what I asked. Carolu’s soldiers were already besieging my lands in Oristano when I caught up with them. We fought for three days, and most of Carolu’s men are dead. I’ll lead my siege myself.

**April 1083**

Set up our camps in the plains around Olbia. It is time to test the new Mangonels I’ve spent so much of my gold to build. I’m quite optimistic, the castle garrison is small, and Carolu may be a lot of things, but neither he -a babe as he is- nor his regent are known for their experience in warfare.

**July 1083**

The little brat I took the dukedom of Brittany from -Arelis Wilks- came to me today to say he has forsaken his Prussian culture to take my Breton ways for his own. Likely a way to make sure I won’t take his lands from him, but who cares. I have little need of Brest now.

**August 1083**

Captured Olbia. The young Judike came to give me his lands. Or rather, his regent has, the child is only two. With this, I can name myself the Duke of Sardinia. I may not hold all of Sardinia, but I hold _enough_ to justify my claim, and what law can’t justify, my gold will. Hail be to the Ormings.

**January 1084**

The envoy I sent to Carolu’s brother -the Judike of Tortoli- has come back to say he refuses to see me as his rightful liege. I’ve left my castle in Oristano -where I will stay while Sardinia slowly calms down- to make him my vassal.

**April 1084**

I’ve miscalculated. Baldu had enough gold to hire himself some more mercenaries to fight at least for now. I’ll have to do the same, as my army was defeated in our frontal assault. Retreating to Porto Torres for now.

**October 1084**

Caught up with Baldu again in Oristano while he prepared to lay siege to my castle. The battle didn’t end as well as I liked it to -we lost many more men than they, almost fifteen hundred men on the two sides perished- but we won. Gaulter must have killed at least twenty-five men all by himself, and maimed two of Baldu’s knights, though he is wounded. Leaving Oristano to lay siege once again.

**November 1084**

Found Baldu’s armies, retreating, in Tortoli. Make short work of whatever still remained of his men, and captured two of his knights. The fighting is over, now, all that matters is the siege.

**June 1085**

Budoc’s forces came to help, and brought with them Arzoccu, the son and heir to Baldu’s throne. Baldu was more than willing to lay a charge to beat us if it meant he could take his son back. He couldn’t. We’ve captured him, and he’s willing to bend the knee if we can give him back his son. A shame, I’d wanted to lay siege to his lands, but at least this way he’ll have more gold to pay me.

On my way back, Breseloc, my Bishop, has said that it is my duty to ensure that the people of Sardinia -half of them following the Greek religion- can come to see the light of God’s will. If it means more gold and less violence, I will take it. I’ll have Gaulter keep in Sardinia as well to begin the preparation for the settlement of Sardinia by civilized Bretons rather than these Latin savages. Maybe he’ll learn how to _work_ while he’s away from home.

**July 1087**

Baldu is… an adequate Marshal. Now that he is my vassal, I’m obliged to give him a position in my council -and better have him where I can see him, than let him plot out in secret. He isn’t a fan of what I’ve put him through though. As an Orthodox Sardinian, he’s not happy with what Gaulter and Breseloc are doing in my realm. I’ve had to separate him and Budoc at least five times this month. Thankfully I’m a more passable diplomat than he is a warrior, so I’ve put his arguments down for now.

**February 1088**

The Pope has called for yet another crusade in Jerusalem. Honestly, it’s been the fifth, and they’ve all ended horribly. I have given him nothing but empty words over what to do in the Holy Land. If he takes it, fine. Glory to God. If he doesn’t, I’ll be in my realm, doing nothing, pretending I don’t exist.

**March 1089**

The time has come. The Duke of Orleans -who holds my rightful lands in Nantes and Rennes- is weak for the first time since the reign of my father. I’ve called upon my allies, levies, knights and vassals to prepare. We ride as soon as possible to take back Nantes.

**July 1089**

My Grandson -and future successor, once Gaulter succeeds me and passes like I will- has come of age today, and he is stunning. A man of true intellect, he has come to truly understand diplomacy. When he speaks, commoner and noble, king and beggar alike listen in enraptured silence.

**July 1090**

The Orleans attacked first. A host of 4000 marched past the borders and besieged Penthievre. I sent my men to stop them. His host, led by the young Count of Montargis, was laid to waste. Two of my knights -commoners, the both of them- have passed on, but we’ve captured Montargis and killed his fellow count, Gauthier of Chartres while they were fleeing. Most of his men -those who survived- have fled back to Orleans, and I will chase after them once we have Nantes.

**September 1090**

Gurthcid, my grandson -and to be heir- is dead. Once I die, Gaulter will have to give his lands to a barren little girl. May God have mercy on us all.

**November 1090**

As I knew it would, the Pope’s new crusade failed _again_. Christian lords return home to their lands to see what ruin has befallen them, while I -richer than them all- work on taking back my rightful lands.

**February 1091**

Caught up with the men of Orleans, this time led by a man named Vasco, near Nantes. The resulting battle was short, bloody, and victorious for my men.

**August 1091**

Arelis of Brest has died. A shame, he had become all but tolerable now. He had suffered injuries in Nantes, and now he passed from internal injuries while we still besiege the castle. Not much is left before it falls, and then we can give the man a funeral fitting a count. His son Frioc has succeeded him for now, though -given he is but a child- he’ll stay in Brest while we fight to avenge his father.

**November 1091**

Guichard of Orleans has surrendered at long last. Nantes is mine once more. I will honor my truce with him, and God willing, If I am well, strike to take back Rennes next.

**August 1092**

Breseloc died today while working on converting the people of Tortoli to the true faith. May God give him peace.

Duke or peasant, high or low. It doesn’t matter, we are all mortals in the end. Today, I woke up with a cough, something the like of which I hadn’t faced since I was but a child. My head and throat aches, and my eyes water if I keep them open for even a second. My Physician told me to eat naught but vegetables and herbs for a week, so as to revitalize my body. I’m no physician myself -my expertise is in the matters of religion- but I’ll take what I can. It seems to have helped somewhat at any rate.

**December 1092**

Budec, the fool, has separated from the main line of Orming to form his own branch of our dynasty. He brands himself Count Budec of Logoduro, Head of the House of Pensec, with the white tower of his land’s coat of arms marking his separation from the main line of my dynasty. To make things complicated, the line of Orming-Tyddewi has lost the last bits of her land to the Albans who now hold all of Wales. Baldoen -the house head- and his family have yet to return home, looking for some fool or the other who would press their claim on Ireland or Wales for them.

**April 1093**

I woke up this morning, and I realized I’d slept soundly for the first time in months. I did not get up coughing even once. Beatrix’s little herbal remedy worked, it seems. God be praised.

**October 1093**

To further defend Nantes from any likely return of aggression, I’ve elected to build up the fortifications around the city of Briant and equip it with a garrison and a motte. My gold has been spent and I’ve sent for architects and builders throughout my realm.

**July 1095**

Magdalene is dead. The countess-consort of Pravia -I’d hardly seen my sister since she married that lout Alfonso Mariez years ago- has passed due to her obesity. She wasn’t young, but she wasn’t old enough either. Only 59 years of age. For shame.

**August 1095**

Nazareno, my bishop tells me that the conversion of Sardinia has completed. Budec, who I’ve left the task of bringing forth our people to populate Sardinia, tells me thus far only the lands around Oristano have successfully become Breton.

**January 1095**

Dubravka, Gaulter’s wife is dead. Sad news, but also shamefully, also a relief. If I wed him right, I might manage to secure my line’s continual. Poor Meonre is many things -she is bright and she is well-learned- but she has no chance of continuing my line.

_Custent, Duke of Brittany rests at the arms of the Lord at 71 years of age after he died of old age on 7 November 1096. Though quite famous for his sharp wit and intellect, he could still not outsmart death. In his lands, he was succeeded by his only son and heir Gaulter mab Custent who was crowned Gaulter II of Brittany and Sardinia._


	10. Journal of Gaulter II mab Custent, Duke of Brittany (1096-1126)

**November 1096**

The day I had been waiting for only arrived when it was rainy. A sad commentary on my life that nature itself weeps for the happiest moment of my last 47 years, now that I have my own throne. I’ve done much to reach it -killed commoner and count alike both in war and in peace, and now… I am here.

**January 1097**

King Geraud summoned me today. For seconds, I was scared. I’ve done much that few know but myself -in fact, of my little stint in Gwened all those years ago, only I am aware now that father and Dubravka have both passed. Thankfully, it was benign. The king only wished to bequeath upon me the position of his Steward. A good day. I feasted in Paris and returned home, on my way inspecting the construction of the castle in Briant. The locals have already come to call it Kastel-Briant, and I’m not unwilling to do the same.

**November 1097**

A delegation from the city of Rohan in my county of Vannes came today to request us to give them city rights. I’ve elected to follow through what they say.

**August 1098**

The Castle in Briant has been fully built and equipped. It is small, and has little hope of keeping enemies away for long, but I can entrust it to do what it is meant to, keep enemies away while I muster forces to strike at them decisively. I’ve granted it as a Barony to Conmael of Sant Brieuc, a young Breton of minor nobility. He’ll keep the barony if he can keep his dynasty going, but I have little hopes for that.

**September 1098**

God be praised. I had little hope for Meonre to give birth any time soon, and yet she has given birth to not one, but two. A son and a daughter. Rest, Morgen and Roenhael. There is much in store for you yet.

**June 1099**

The peasants in Arborea have risen up against me, hoping for lower taxes and lesser levies. I’ve mustered the forces of my uncle Budec to deal with them for now. He’ll be given free hand in how he deals with them, so long as he does not touch my own castle in Oristano.

**January 1100**

My liege, King Geraud, has declared war on the Grand Mayor of Pisa to take his possessions in Sardinia, _de jure_ rightfully mine. God bless him, that man. If he wins, I’ll have more land. If he loses, I’ll lose nothing.

**May 1100**

Alienor, my second wife and now my duchess, is with child. I should be overjoyed, and yet she has been acting strange -something is wrong. Am I truly the father? Or are there people I will need to kill again?

Deciding to look into the matter discretely, I searched further… My fears were unfounded. Well. Let us hope for a healthy son, I suppose.

**December 1100**

Frioc, Count of Leon, is of age today. While meeting with him to point out his new duties, he has said he had separated his way from the line of Wilks, rather forming his own _Breton_ branch of that dynasty, the House of Wilks-Brest. Luck be with him. His kin in Prussia -especially Duchess Weslikan- can’t be happy about that.

Alienor has given me a son. Little Adrien is healthy and bright, and is that not what any father wishes? For an heir to continue his dynasty? God is merciful.

**April 1101**

Fought with Pisa’s forces today. The King has been busy besieging their land, but some splintered forces of the grand mayor’s army found mine near Oristano.

**December 1101**

Berto of Pisa has given up the war. I have been granted the County of Cagliari. I will owe Geraud somewhat, but that is a price I’m not unwilling to pay as it has given me what I would need to spend my own gold for.

**February 1102**

Ruiallon, my spymaster, has brought me news that someone seems to wish to kill me son. Ah, intrigue. How I’ve missed you. I will stop them, whoever they are.

**March 1102**

Meorne is trying to kill my son, her own brother. That’s… you know, I had almost lost hope. She is my daughter after all. I’d better convince her to cease her planning.

**June 1103**

Alienor has given birth to a second son for me. Little Ildut is beautiful but frail. Much more sickly or fragile than either Adrien or Gurthcid, may he find rest in Heaven. I will pray for him today.

**March 1104**

Fell ill today. A cold, I think. I’ve taken a remedy of herbs to see how I will manage through this illness. My physician doesn’t agree with the treatment I’ve decided, but the fool wanted to hang me upside down… I’m not sure how it could have helped.

**March 1105**

Made war today against the Berber Emir of Mzab for his possessions in Alger. The Order of the Knights Hospitaller, established in Corsica, have sent me six thousand men to fight in this war with. God give me strength to strike true.

**July 1105**

Fought against the armies of the heathenous Sheikh of Tahert after we disembarked in the coasts of Tanas. We weren’t doing well at first, but the Hospitallers’ help gave us the victory we seek. When I began laying siege to Tanas, I learned that it was already under attack by some peasants in the area, which we defeated also. Tanas fell shortly after. The other half of my army, commanded by my friend Frioc of Leon, is besieging Algier itself.

**November 1105**

Captured the Emir of Mzab while besieging Tanas. Alger is mine. As my lands are too many to hold by my own, I’ve elected to give my castle in Arborea to my son-in-law Desiderius Autharing. Once he passes, may it come never soon, his son -and my grandson, Morgen mab Meorne will inherit. I fully expect that little Ildut, may he grow to be wise and strong, will have a loyal vassal in Morgen once he becomes the Duke of Sardinia.

I’ll send both my steward and bishop to convert and civilize my new holdings in Alger, once I’m sure it is safe for them to.

**March 1106**

Uncle Budoc died today. Cousin Cristen -now the only survivor of the House of Pensec- has succeeded him in his possessions in the north of Sardinia. May he rest in peace, he died older than most, and a loyal man in spite of everything. Never a better Chancellor had Brittany seen.

**July 1106**

A local fisherwoman from Tanas came to me, claiming she could cook me an enchanted supper. Supposedly, she catches dreamfish from a secret spot and then performs strange rituals on them. She serves their head, each then inspiring ecstatic visions for days. I had her teach me her ways… I feel intelligent. Wisened. In ways, arcane. What I know now, I can’t teach anyone, even my children. Man has no right to live with knowledge like this.

I used what I had learned to cure my son. Ildut will always be frail, and never meant for a life of war, but the weakness that had plagued him since the beginning is now over. Relief washes over me as I see him run around, play with other children. Be safe, my son.

**December 1106**

An architect came to me, offering a way to properly expand my castle into a fortified tower. With this, I can expand -at least for now- Gwened into a proper castle to defend my people from.

My Brother-in-Law Loui, Duke of Armagnac has called upon me to help fight against the King of Aquitaine for his right to some of her land. This I can do. Him I will help. For now, later when I strike to take Montaigu from the same, he can return the favor.

**February 1107**

I had so many hopes for you, my sweet darling. All the things you could have experienced, learned or done… There were many possibilities, a whole _life_ to live. Maybe you could have children of your own… now, none of those will come to be. I knew you were always frail, but I had hoped after curing you of your sickness that I’d saved you. I should have known fate is not a foe one can fight. Rest in peace, little Ildut.

Life has never been _easy_ , but what goes around, comes around. Perhaps it is revenge for my sins… but the loss of my little Ildut is unbearable. So young. So full of life and potential. Now, completely still. Eternally still, never to laugh or cry again. I’ll lean to the embrace of my Alienor. She knows as well as me what grief we are going through.

**August 1107**

I’ve captured Montaigu while in war to help my brother-in-law, capturing the current French count’s wife and three of his guests. I’ll keep them in my dungeon for now, while moving further south to see what other battle I can fight.

**May 1108**

Found Duran, Count of Bellac in Astarac south of Garonne. The battle was fierce and long, and not one as left unharmed, but we won. Poor Diseridius who I gave the county of Arborea to has been maimed and disfigured horrifically, and I have no hope for him to live much longer. Baron Conmael -who I had given Kastel-Briant all those years ago- has proven himself to me. He killed three of Duran’s knights, including his fellow count, Philippe of Barcelona -the very man that maimed Diseridius. I might need to further award that man; he knows what he is doing. With this battle, the war is all-but won for Loui. King Eustache has no hope of recovering from _this_.

**June 1109**

Fought Duran’s army again, this time further south in Bayonne where we were laying siege to. We almost had our victory, but the Duke of Aragon came in with a thousand fresh forces on the enemy’s side. Will retreat back to Fronsac and from there join Loui’s host to bolster his forces against a likely assault by Aragonese men.

**September 1109**

Deseridius has died from the wounds he had taken in the Battle of Garonne. He has been succeeded in his lands by my grandson Morgen. Loui has won. I’ll return home to Gwened. Hopefully by now the new Keep has been constructed. Maybe I can ransom back the poor folk I captured in Montaigu.

**April 1110**

Geraud has crowned himself King of Sardinia. That title should, by right, belong to me -who hold most of that land in dukedom- though as I owe allegiance to him, he is well within his rights to crown himself king.

**July 1110**

The peasants in Alger rose up against me. The rebellion was quick to be put down, but I’ve elected to send more of our kind. There’s been naught a rebellion in Brittany since, why can’t _they_ be more like the Bretons?

**February 1112**

Ruling has become such an exhausting work as of late. It is as if no subject of mine can wipe his own arse without my express instruction! I was in the middle of planning a get-away to a small tourney some distance away, and then a servant comes to tell me the wall towers we’re building in Gwened have started falling apart. By God woman, just have someone rebuild them, do you _need_ me to tell you that? And now I can’t even go to the get-away… Maybe I should tell Alienor about this. She might help me make some sense of this, how to handle these messes without exploding at someone or drawing the old dagger once again.

**February 1114**

Today, I laid the first stone for the building of my Military Academy of Gwened. The House of Orming has put high importance to our men-at-arms, and with this, I can keep up -and increase- the quality of my soldiers against my neighbors.

**June 1116**

I’ve began training my own retinue of Riders. The Armored Horsemen of Gwened will forevermore ride alongside me and my knights first and in front to battle.

**December 1116**

Adrien is a man now. He is as much of an intellectual as I was at his age… and nowhere as horrible a person. He has fallen ill recently, but by god. If I die today, I will die restfully, knowing my son is well ready to take the reins for me. We’ve wed him to a beautiful little girl from Kempten -a Bavarian- by the name of Willibirg von Wassenburg. God, help them live the life we couldn’t, free of bloodshed and destruction.

**February 1117**

Geraud died today, may he rest in peace. He died from complications pertaining to his obesity, though the man was old enough that he had -at most- a few more months in him. His successor is yet another Reginar, but this one is a Dutch hailing from Dokkum. He’s nowhere as smart as his distant kin of a predecessor, making me his spymaster. Goodbye, Geraud. I will miss you, old friend.

**January 1118**

My little boy Adrien is a father now. Twins, like his sister before him! The two kids are healthy and lovely. The girl -a little older- much more lovely and the boy -the second now in line to the throne- a little healthier. May you live long and prosper, Ida and Mauric.

**July 1118**

The Military school has been built. The first of my new students have been admitted, and of them, two shall one day fight beside me.

**September 1119**

Oh, Luncen. My dearest friend. If you were still with me, you’d tell me to be strong. That things _will_ get better… and you would be right, like you always were. But now, I must curse and cry. How could I not when you are gone from this world? How am I not the first among our crew to go? Is it my curse to live long into a shell of myself while all my friends and family perish around me? You will never be forgotten, Old Friend.

**March 1120**

Loui has once again asked me for help in his war with Aquitaine and Eustache. What is one more war to fight, I suppose? One more time, into the breach! I called forth my men to ride at dawn, at least I can see how well my new knights and riders will do. I will sail north into the Irish Sea to fight in Ireland, as that is Aquitaine’s greatest ally.

**September 1120**

I’ve found victory in Dubhlinn after five months of siege. When did _Ireland_ begin having so many castles and towns? I thought they were only villages.

**April 1122**

Captured most of Meath, have returned from Ireland to help Loui out in Gascone as his envoys paint me a dark picture of how the war is faring on his front.

**May 1122**

Recently I’ve started to feel like I’m not truly worthy of the Duchy my ancestors have left for me. Do other rulers doubt themselves like I have? I try to be good. I try to be cautious -heaven knows both are difficult for one such as me- but I try. There are, yet, always more traitors to find, more plotters in secret rooms. I’ve bred a generation of slick murderers, and it is coming to bite me. Damn this universe for raising me to this position. I was worthy of hunting. Of raiding. Of Fighting. Not ruling lands so vast, with hands dripping with blood. I need to be alone to think more of this.

**June 1123**

Caught up with a host of forces led by the Duke of Languedoc in Sant-Lizier. Morgen was injured grievously, but my knights did wonderfully. The Armored riders drove into their shield wall and massacred most of them at the cost of five of their numbers. We’ve driven them out of Loui’s lands, and now I will march to free his capital.

**September 1124**

Today, I’ve learned that some fiend is trying to kill my wife and my daughter-in-law. Alienor is dear to me, and we’ve lived too long for me to allow such villainy to be committed against any of my family. The game is afoot. I will find them.

**March 1125**

Fought Bernat Eli, Count of Bellac again near Loui’s capital. The battle was short, swift and eventless. The poor commoners in his army had no chance at all. This war is almost over. One more battle - one more siege- and Eustache is sure to surrender.

**July 1125**

It is over. I have left Aquitaine to return to my home in Gwened.

** October 1125 **

I can feel it in my very bones. Death will come for me soon. Like an old friend, he is waiting patiently to receive me. What will happen when I am gone? Will I see the hundreds of men I’ve slaughtered on the battlefield? The knights I’ve wounded, maimed or butchered? The men I murdered all those years ago? Will I see Gurthcid or Ildut, my sons taken from me too many years early, again? I know it. I will be dead within a year.

_Duke Gualter II found peace in Christ’s embrace at 77 years of age on 1 November 1126. An unrivaled warrior in single combat and an intellectual unlike any other, he found no rivals in war or debate, and finally gave up the ghost in old age. His only surviving son, Adrien, would succeed him in all his titles._


	11. Journal of Adrien mab Gaulter, Duke of Brittany (1126-1158)

**November 1126**

Yesterday I sat on the seat of the spymaster in my father’s personal council. Today, I take his seat. I’ve convened a new council for a new generation. Count Tobias of Tortoli -a well-liked man- can be my Chancellor. Countess Anaguistl of Penthievre my Marshal for her education in the art of war is unrivaled. Cousin Cristen -of the House of Pensec- can hold Stewardship for my throne, and the Count of Leon is worthy of taking my own old seat now. The only one of the five that I am not familiar with -through feast or hunting or debate, or even family gatherings Today - is Aldrien, my Bishop. I’m sure I can get him to come around as well.

Yesterday, I went to bed as a man of my father’s council., I go to bed as his successor. Tomorrow, I will learn if king Gozewijn has any seats to give me on _his_ council.

**February 1127**

Mother joined father in heaven today, she couldn’t handle separation from him for long. God give her mercy and grant her the afterlife she wants.

His majesty the King has elected to grant me the position of his Spymaster, like my father before me. Good, that is a stance I have experience with.

**May 1128**

Cristen, my cousin and Countess of Longudoro has asked me to declare war on the Archon of Corsica on her behalf. She holds a claim on the county of Curadoria up north in Corsica itself, and well, I’d very much like to be the Duke of Corsica as well as the three titles I hold now. It might, eventually, make life harder for my children when they stand to inherit, but let future Adrien worry about the future.

I’ve called for war. I’ll have Cristen gather up her own men and will meet with them in Olbia where we’ll take the fight to Crabielle II, the Archon of Corsica.

**June 1128**

We crossed the straits and besieged Bonifacio, the castle of the country Cristen wants. Almost immediately afterwards, we had a minor breach in Bonifacio’s second curtain walls. I’ve heard news Crabielle has sent his men to Tortilo. Tobias’ walls are strong. I’m sure they will hold, at least for as long as it takes for me to take Bonifacio, hand it over to Cristen and return to give Crabielle’s boys a thrashing they’ll never forget.

**January 1129**

Bonifacio fell after months of siege. We lost more than two hundred. They lost a thousand men on the walls. For now, my marshal is remaining in Vecchio, at least until we make Crabielle end this war. Marching down south to take the fight to Tortoli.

**March 1129**

The Corsican army, led by the Archon’s son and heir, fled to the mountains of Isili further west of Tortilo. A sound strategy meant to make their last stand count. My men nearly equal them in numbers, but we have both a better commander -myself- and better equipment. I led the cavalry charge with my Riders and my horsemen, but the fight continued for five days. By the end of the fight, Gonariu -the enemy commander- was confirmed as the new Archon… only hours after he fled from my men. Conmael, my father’s greatest commander -and my mentor in war- was wounded, though he might as well have killed half a hundred men in the first day of the battle alone. I began chasing them further north. Gonariu has no other place to retreat to now, and when he does, we’ll be there to fight him again.

**August 1129**

Caught up with Gonariu in the hills near Bastia while he was trying to make a makeshift fleet to take his men out of Corsica. They did better than I expected -and Conmael was wounded again- but there was only one way this could end. I’d hoped to capture Gonariu and end this right here, but I will lay siege to Bastia instead.

**March 1130**

Bad news. An envoy from Olbia has said Gonariu’s men are laying siege. When she came to my camp near Bastia, she said that they had already broken through the bailey and the curtain wall and were near the tower itself. I can’t leave the siege here. Olbia will have to remain lost for a few weeks.

**September 1130**

Captured Bastia for good. Gonariu -even though he’s taken Olbia like I knew he would- has come to parlay. I’ve taken Bonifacio and he’s left to see what can be done for Bastia. I’d compensate Cristen, but I _did_ just give her a new county. Converting and settling it will be her duty and hers alone.

**November 1130**

Conmael did not make it through the trip back. As he is with no issue, his barony defaults to me. I suppose I can give it to one of my other knights, someone who’s served me well in this war we fought together. I’ll know once I get home. Willibirg can advise me on this one.

**January 1131**

I have a third son. Little Euhoiarn was born nearly nine months ago. God bless him and god bless Willibirg. We talked today. I’ve given the barony to my friend Anton mab Riuallon. He’s a man with a good head on his shoulders, and he’s served me well in the recent wars. I am sure he will make me proud as a landed noble, no matter _how_ minor. He’s fancied himself Anton, 2nd Baron Kastell-Briant, founder of the House of Sant Mikael.

**March 1131**

My Steward tells me that there is a _possibility_ I could somewhat change our succession laws to make the stability of the realm survive my death, at least to a point. While -as is tradition- my lands will pass to all my children, it is possible, according to some new laws made in the King’s own court, to make sure my younger children will not take as much of my land as possible. They won’t like it, so it is better I do it while they are too young to know. My vassals need to agree on this though, and it will take some time to warm Tobias and Morgen to my new idea.

**December 1132**

Frioc brought me some interesting tidbits of trivia today. My king, His Majesty Gozewijn, is… I’m not sure how to say it without retching, but he is, in a word, deviant. On one hand, I’m not sure how to look him in the eye. On the other hand, all I need to do if I want something is to dangle it in front of him. And what I _need_ is the right to declare war on the Duke of Orleans. By law, I am not allowed to… but the king can be made to look the other way.

**January 1133**

I’ve made war with Guichard, Duke of Orleans over Rennes, a land of Brittany that is _rightfully_ mine. Thankfully, Gozewijn was quite willing to let me do my thing, given I am his secret keeper.

**September 1133**

Fought with Guichard’s armies right near Gwened. The man has enough money to hand out for any mercenary to fight his war for him. And yet, my men are better. Four thousand of his men are dead, I’ve captured four of his knights, and at least _one_ annoyance to me is dead. Tobias of Tortoli fell to the blade of Guichard’s heir -also named Guichard, and it is likely Morgen -wounded in the battle- will follow him soon.

**December 1133**

Anton was wounded today, took a hit from one of Guichard’s knights in battle west of Rennes. We _did_ capture his wounder though, and I might just hand the man over to Anton as a token of my appreciation.

**April 1134**

Captured Rennes, only to learn my castle and capital in Gwened is under siege by the remnants of Guichard’s armies.

**June 1134**

Caught up with Orleans’ army in Rohan, though most of his men are mercenaries his gold could hire. The battle was fierce and swift, we captured Gaucher, count of Anjou while he was retreating. In somewhat less good news, the Duke of Frisia has joined Guichard in his war with me.

**September 1134**

Caught up with Frisia’s forces in Rais near Nantes. The battle was quick, and went exactly like I hoped it would. My knights have grievously injured and later captured Frances II of Frisia. If he survives, he’ll spend some time in my dungeon, but I won’t count on that.

**November 1134**

Morgen died today. We knew he would, and yet it was still a somber day in our campsite near Saumur when he did not wake up in the morning. God give you passage to heaven, nephew. I will miss you.

**December 1134**

By gods, is this war truly worth it? Frioc, my dearest friend, has also passed to his injuries. Leaving a young son of 20 to succeed his lands in Brest, and a lifetime of memories for me to cherish and look back upon fondly. God forgive me, I _have_ to keep fighting, if only to make their death mean something.

**April 1135**

Saumur fell a few days ago. Took the larger part of my army to bolster Rennes’ defenses while the smaller portion of my army, led by my knight Cynwyd, will move further inland to lay siege to Angers.

**May 1135**

Guichard the younger, the duke’s heir and son died at my hands in battle. His _own_ son, also named Guichard, will be Guichard’s new heir.

**August 1135**

Caught up with the retreating armies of Orleans in Angers. The war is over. Rennes is mine; Brittany is reunited for the second time by my house. Young Robert of Rennes, Head of the house of Welf-Bourbon, is, for now, my vassal. If he survives to adulthood, that young boy of two.

I’ve ransomed my prisoners taken in the war to pay for some of what the war cost _me_ , though my two friends will never be brought back no matter how much I were to spend. Before going back to Gwened, I -and my vassals- pledged to the new succession law. Hopefully, it won’t do as bad as I think it _might_.

Once I am back home, I can see what to do with the heaps of prisoners I’ve taken that I simply _can’t_ ransom. Maybe some of them might be willing to refill my own rank of bannermen.

**September 1136**

Mauric is father to a beautiful little daughter. Young Anna, presumptively third in line to the throne. May you grow wise, bold and worthy.

**February 1138**

Mauric has given birth to a second child, a son. He’s named him after me. God bless our house. God bless the future of the House of Orming.

**January 1140**

Adrien, my bishop, has provided me with ample proof that I could have the basis for a claim on all of both Anjaccio and Bastia, the two remaining counties of Corsica, at this time held by the Adeltrudis, the duchess of Provence. Right now, I have no hopes of taking her -and her allies- in war, but times will change. I’ll bide my time for now, make ready for a lengthy war for once it is over, all of Corsica will be mine.

My path hereon forward is simple. Take Corsica and take the title of its dukedom, and then break off from West Francia. What my ancestors did, they had to do. What I do _now_ , they would as well if they were in my position. If the West Franks themselves don’t attack me, Gozewijn’s vassals won’t be a problem at all.

**July 1143**

Mauric has fathered a third child, a second son. Bran is healthy, which is more than what I can say for his older brother Adrien. He’s fallen ill with consumption. _Why_?

**February 1145**

I’ve declared war on Bernat III, Duke of Argamnac over my claims to his lands. My father fought two wars for the duke of Argamnac just to give _him_ some lands that were at first owned by Aquitaine, spent much blood and too much money for it to just be swept under the rug. He couldn’t give my father what he owed. His grandson might give my father’s son his dues instead. I’ll ride at dawn.

**June 1145**

Separated from half of my army at the bridges of Garonne. Half my men with besiege Albret, the other half will move for the duke’s capital itself.

**January 1146**

Captured Albret, moving to find Iunceneu and his army at the gates of Argamnac.

**April 1146**

Argamnac has fallen. I took Bernat’s sister and wife hostage, Will move the whole army back to fortify Albret.

**May 1146**

Found Albrat’s armies under the command of a mercenary leader besieging my occupied lands in Albret. Came to fight, our numbers equal and put together near twenty-thousand men strong. My knights did well over all. Gaulter, my second son -god willing, Duke of Alger when I finally go to heaven- killed the son of the Count of Maine while in battle.

**July 1146**

Today I was given grave news. My wife Wilibirg has fallen ill with cancer itself. I fear this may be the end, only a miracle could save her. My son, right now our physician, has done his best to treat him -and God knows there isn’t much more he _can_ humanly do- but it will only delay a painful inevitable.

**August 1146**

I had little hope of her survival, even though Mauric did his best, Willibirg did not make it. I hope you find peace, Willibirg. My wife is not the only person our great realm has lost. Gozewijn, the King of West Francia has died as well, though him because of bad eating habits than for things out of our hands. His club-footed little boy, Aethelhere has succeeded him as King of the West Franks, while his second- younger- son Gozewijn has taken bits of my lands to carve a so-called Kingdom of Sardinia for his own. Once I am done with Argamnac, I will take my lands back from this supposed _king_.

**January 1147**

Captured Bearn and moved back to Argamnac to fight the duke’s army one last time before I finally make him surrender. It _ended_ in my favor, but not the way I wanted it to. My vassal the Count of Leon is dead.

**May 1147**

Gaulter was killed in battle by the count of Toulouse. My dear son… Oh how I hoped for you. May god give you peace. He has, it relieves me somewhat, been avenged by his brother Mauric, who butchered Raynaud of Toulouse where he stood. Lucky, I don’t know how I’d handle _him_ as a vassal if he’d lived. Once I die, my youngest son, Euhoiarn will succeed me as Count of Argamnac. Gaulter’s own son will take Alger and what is rest keep in my own hands.

**September 1148**

Made war with little Gozewijn II of Sardinia to take my lands back. This will be brief.

**March 1149**

It was. Gozewijn surrendered when my armies showed at his gates. I’ve spent the last few days in Sassari. More than anything, my quest to become a learned man has been teaching me how vast the sea of my lack of knowledge is. What more, there must be so much knowledge now lost to the ages -to the barbarian attacks and the fall of Rome, Alexandria and Neishabur- that I have a duty to help return.

I can contribute, perhaps, by giving a new translation to the mystic knowledge of the Corpus Hermeticus.

**March 1150**

My translation of Corpus Hermeticus finally stands complete. My words rest on beautifully illuminated pages, all protected by a lavish cover as befits the book’s importance. It has taken a place of pride in my own library, and both Aldrien -my Bishop- and the various priests of the realm have requested to take their own copies of it. The effort has made me an accomplished translator, and much I have learned.

**Mary 1151**

There are words of discontent all around the realm. Five vassals of King Aethelhere have pledged to a cause for the liberty of the realm, led by the Duke of Orleans they hope to force him to his heels. Guichard II of Orleans has requested my aid in his cause of liberty. Thus far, I’ve used the excuse of our generational, dynastic feud to refuse help -though frankly I am merely indifferent towards that bold absolver. In cause of independence, I stand alone but should a civil war arise, I may make use of that the way I wish.

**November 1151**

That fool Guichard has done it. West Francia is in a full-blown Civil War. I will keep calm, see what the winning side of this little debacle is, and make my move when I can.

**December 1152**

Mauric has left my home today. His little wife, Gormflaith, was made Queen of the Lithuanians as a result of a civil war in that far, distant land. He is now his consort. At least until he comes to take my place.

**April 1153**

I was lucky not to throw my lot with Guichard. He has little hopes of victory. His allies -four counts all over the realm- are hesitant to fight where they can, and the better-trained army of the King has defeated them at every turn. This little war for liberty has no chance of victory. I will bide my time.

**August 1153**

While everyone is busy fighting Guichard’s civil war, I have the perfect chance to strike at Provence and take what is left of Corsica. I’ve called for my men, and I will set sail to Corsica at dawn. I’ve amassed my men into two camps under the former duke of Argamnac -now count Bernat of Argamnac- and Iunceneu, the count of Arborea. I’ll join Bernat once I’ve reached the islands, but I trust the two armies will besiege, and successfully occupy, all of Corsica by the time I am here. The true enemy now is Provence’s men in the mainland who may cross Aquitaine to besiege my own capital.

**September 1153**

Guichard has been defeated. He and his four allies were taken into the King’s dungeons. At least for now. I wonder how much of their lands he might confiscate.

**January 1154**

Reached Ajaccio at the most crucial time possible, while my men were fighting Provence’s soldiers. We pushed them back successfully, though with somewhat heavy casualties, when Iunceneu abandoned his siege of Bastia to come for our help.

**March 1154**

Left the siege weapons, alongside some of my levies, in Ajaccio and took the majority of my men -Riders, the new Corssbowmen and the footmen alike- to chase the armies of Provence, led by Duchess Adeltrudis herself. Caught up with the duchess at the furthest edges of Bastria, the ensuing battle was long and bloody for us both.

**July 1154**

Found Adeltrudis after a long chase in Oristano down south in Sardinia. Bernat wounded the Duchess, but she has, thus far, managed to evade us. I’ll hunt her all over the damned archipelago if it’s what is necessary.

**November 1154**

Found Adeltrudis again, attacking the campsite of our besieging forces in Bastria. Thankfully, her wild goose chase is over. We took her captive once her forces had been utterly destroyed. The War is, at long last after two months, over. I’ve given over my lands in Corsica to Euhoiarn, my youngest son. He stands to inherit the duchy, and so I might as well prepare him for what his life will be once I am gone.

**July 1155**

Met with the Duke of Frisia today. The man is willing and quite prepared to help me in my cause for independence -strange, the King is similarly Dutch, though he’s all-but abandoned his ways for that of the French now. With this, and our pooled resources, we _should_ be able to break free from West Francia.

**January 1156**

I sent an ultimatum to Aethelhere. He’s accepted my demands. Frisia, and my lands -Argamnac, Sardinia, Corsica, Alger and Brittany- are free from his rule. In my capital, I crowned myself King of Brittany. With my new power, I can’t hold all five Duchies as I had until now. Nine years ago, I took his title as my own. Today, I gave Bernat of Argamnac his ducal title back. Euhoairn -who I gave the comital title of Ajaccio last year- was made Duke of Corsica.

**May 1156**

Aethelhere might not be happy about me now that he knows with my breaking free, I’ve also made myself the King of Sardinia -a title he held in pretense since he gave me my independence. Once I die, my grandson Per -from the late Gaulter- will succeed me as the King of Sardinia. Today, I’ve brought glory to us. The House of Orming is no longer comital or ducal in dignity. We are a house of Kings.

**August 1156**

Oh Anton. If only you were still with me. You would have told me to be strong. That things will get better, that _this too_ shall pass. But today, I will cry and grieve. My friend, my vassal, my loyal knight. You are dead, and your house will only survive you for one more generation.

**May 1158**

My Castle has served me well, but once again, it is time for it to be further expanded. My Keep and Motte will have to become a concentric castle. This will all-but drain my treasury, but I’ve saved money -for three generations we’ve saved money- for this very purpose.

_Adrien, King of Brittany found peace at Christ’s embrace at the age of 58 on July 3 rd 1159\. While his cause of death was said to be complications related to obesity, he had lived a long, fulfilling life. In Brittany, he was succeeded by his son Mauric. Euhoairn, his youngest son and Duke of Corsica was granted his possessions in the northern Africa, while his grandson Per was made the King of Sardinia._


	12. Journal of Mauric mab Adrien, King of Brittany (1159-1186)

**July 1159**

Things are not going well. They are not going well at all. When I left Gwened to become Gormflaith’s consort, I didn’t think she would do what she would. She has betrothed _my_ son, to no say of my own, to a syphilitic wretch twice his age who, if he’s _lucky,_ will die before infecting him too. By gods, woman. What were you _thinking_? I returned home from Gormflaith’s castle in Kernave to take over my new Kingdom.

**August 1160**

Iunmonoc, Earl of Lincolnshire and only-God-knows-how related to me, from the house of Orming-Ripon, has further separated his way from that house to create a cadet branch of _a cadet branch_ of my dynasty. He fancies himself the Lord of the house of Orming-Lincoln, and shares the Ripon coat of arms with the purple lion of Lincoln put on its front. Well, not as though I have any way of _stopping_ all these vassals from showing up here and there.

**July 1161**

The bastard Duke of Armagnac has broken off communion with my rule in Brittany. I was made to give him -and his ilk- their independence today to stop any form of bloodshed. May God strike them all down where they stand.

**December 1162**

My Brother Euhoairn has formed yet another branch of our dynasty. This one I could have seen coming. He was made duke of Corsica, and if I understand it, he has done exactly what I would have in his place, and taken the place of my nephew as the new King of the realm. He brands himself as the head of the House of Orming-Tanas, with the squares of his capital county adorning his personal coats of arms. Good luck, brother. May you find better luck in your endeavors than I have.

**July 1163**

I has happened just as I knew it would. Bran has fallen ill from the great pox. His two children are healthy, and yet I don’t see him long for the world. God damn you Gormflaith. What in heaven were you _thinking_?

**March 1165**

Peasants have rose up against me. This might be the greatest instance of a peasant revolt in Breton history. Six thousand peasants have come to lay siege to _all_ my castles. I’ll ride to do battle with them at dawn.

**May 1165**

Fought the bulk of them near Naoned. Their lack of training is the only thing that saved this realm. God help me.

**October 1168**

Aethelhere is dead. Died from the wounds he had taken in battle against the Frisians. His only son Amedee has succeeded him in his French throne.

**November 1169**

Gormflaith’s envoys came today to tell me our son, my heir, is dead. He had suffered from the Great Pox for six years -and I always knew this was a foregone conclusion- and yet, the sting hurts. He did not deserve this. God damn you Gormflaith, are you as sad as I am? Have you any regrets that you sentenced you own son to die in such a most painful way? Mauric, Bran’s -thankfully- healthy son will be the successor to both mine and Gormflaith’s kingdoms now.

**May 1175**

Which has it been, the sixth? Seventh? Crusade on Jerusalem. For the first time since the first, the Catholic lords had a chance, and yet it ended just as the others did. The Pope’s forces _nearly_ got to Jerusalem this time, if it helps. I’m sure next time’s the charm.

**September 1177**

_Are you kidding me_? As if Bran was not enough, now she has handed over my grandson and heir to- to some Estonian wretch infected with a lover’s pox. By gods, if this dynasty ever gives a son to another kingdom, it will be too soon. On the other hand, she _has_ created herself the Kingdom of Estonia alongside Lithuania… King of Brittany, Lithuania _and_ Estonia? Hmm. She’s ambitious, even if she has not taste in finding suitable matches.

**December 1179**

The time has come to strike back at Argamnac. Jaspert, Bernat’s son will be my vassal, and his domains will go to the only man from that land that remained loyal to me. Renaud’s loyalty will be rewarded, and I will be _one_ step closer to uniting Francia under my banner.

**March 1180**

Made it to Argamnac a few weeks after the siege had begun. There is already a small breach in the third curtain wall of his castle -we’re not willing quite now to go through their Zwinger as they are starving and disease runs rampant inside his fortified walls. Jaspert has taken his men to Toulouse where they besiege _my_ vassal’s castle. We’ll take Argamnac and come to his help in no time.

**July 1180**

Made it back to Toulouse to fight Jaspert’s men at the gates of Toulouse. We’ve relieved the siege and pushed back their army into their borders, where I will hunt them next.

**February 1181**

Captured Bertrand-de-Comminges, went back to Argamnac where the Duke’s men have tried to take back after their retreat ended. Will go to take Tarbes next.

**August 1181**

Word has reached me from the far east that a new leader has risen up among the barbarian tribes of the distant steppes. This Khagan Temujin has declared himself _ruler of the universe_ , Genghis Khan in their guttural tongue, and has sworn to conquer the whole world. He isn’t the first to do so, the Karlings under Carl the Great once swore this. Rome swore this. Persia swore this. Alexander the Great swore this… But it is fearsome, at least for those living in the far east. The story goes that the Khagan rides at the head of a horde of invincible horsemen that cannot be killed. I doubt he’ll get very far.

**September 1181**

Captured Tarbes. Jaspert has agreed to my terms and the war is over. I’ve given him -and his vassals- to Renaud, the new Duke of Argamnac.

**February 1183**

With the death of Tephaine verch Roenualloc, the House of Orming-Tyddewi, the oldest cadet branch of my dynasty that once held land in Wales, is now completely extinct. Another branch of my dynasty, house Pensec will probably go extinct in one generation as well, as its last survivor is a landless consort of a duchess of my own house whose children are Ormings rather than Pensecs.

**March 1186**

Gormflaith is dead. My dear. I might not have loved you in these last few years, and things may have separated us, but I feel your passing more acutely than ever before. Today, I woke up at dawn and I could feel it. I am at death’s doorstep. I will be dead within a year. I am coming, Gormflaith. May we meet again.

**July 1186**

The Academy in Gwened was finally expanded today to better train officers. The Sergeants put through my academy will have a greater understanding of the battlefield than any of my neighbours. I’ll need all I can get, compared to the West Franks, my armies are small, and I have not long for the world. I fear how Mauric my grandson will fare as king of three realms.

_Mauric I, King of Brittany rests at the arms of the Lord at 69 years of age on 9 July 1187. Dying of old age, he was devoted to the understanding of the human body and mind. A respected physician sought by many young scholars for his encyclopedic knowledge of nature and humors, he was the healthiest of his direct line when he finally perished._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck the ck3 AI. Why would you betroth your heir character to a person who you know has Syphilis jfc.


	13. Journal of Mauric II mab Bran, King of Brittany (1187-1221)

**September 1187**

When they told me my grandfather and namesake had perished to old age all the way across Europe, I was already busy fighting for _my_ realms. It was in Memel and against the Duke of Prussia, whose lands are rightfully mine as king of Lithuania. The battle itself was quick and bloodless, we outnumber them by twelve.

**October 1187**

Aime, my queen and wife, gave birth to Bran, my second child, my son and heir.

**December 1189**

Fought Inga Alesdottir, Jarl of Gulathingslog and the last of my current enemies. With this battle won, the wars I’ve been dredged in since I inherited Lithuania are finally over. Praise to God. I can now leave the Baltics for Gwened.

**September 1191**

Only gone for two years, and now Lithuania has risen in rebellion against me. A coalition of nine of my nobles in the Baltic Coast -the duchess of Latgale, duke of Visby, and even two of my own nobles in Brittany have elected to ignore my right as their king to put the duke of Visby on my throne. I’ve elected to go to war with them, show them _who_ is their ruler, and upon whom they were sworn to be loyal.

**November 1191**

Fought, and utterly butchered, the forces of my counts of Brest and Rennes near Treguier today. I’ve called for all of our dynasty -in particular, the king of Sardinia and the Duke of York- to come to my aid against my rebellious counts. We will make them _pay_ for what they’ve done. Whatever was left of my Breton counts’ forces have fled down to Aquitaine. I won’t chase them _for now_ , they’ll come to me themselves.

**February 1193**

Captured Piltene after a few weeks of siege, then went to meet my rebellious dukes in Panemune.

**December 1193**

Things have not gone well. My dukes captured me in Panemune. I elected not to flee _now_ , as the duke of Anjou in West Francia, has also came to war for me in Rennes. I gave up Lithuania. It can be retaken _later_. Kuar -Duke of Visby and now king of Lithuania- may be powerful but he is old, and his prospected successor is nowhere as impressive as him, nor as popular. For now, I’ll go to fight Anjou.

**September 1194**

Made it back home in Kastel-Briant to properly come to fight against the pesky Angevins. The battle was a victory, and they’ve retreated but for now, I have to take back both Naoned and Rennes before I can take the fight into duke Thierry II’s own borders.

**March 1195**

Took back Naoned and Kastell-Briant, fought Anjou’s forces under Count Gaucher’s army in Combourg while we were trying to take Rennes back.

**July 1195**

Laid siege to Thierry’s capital in Sable, right next door to me. I’ll have to thank my kinsman in Sardinia greatly, he’s done _much_ to help me out in these two wars, even if I didn’t win the first one.

**October 1200**

It is a new century, and it is time for me to take back Lithuania. I’ve called forth my allies and my family, and we will sail for the Baltic Sea at within the week.

**March 1201**

Met with Ondrei, the commander of the new king Mart of Lithuania in Lemisele while he was trying to besiege my lands.

**December 1201**

Left half of my army with Robert de Campistron, my loyal knight, to lay siege at Braslau and left with the rest to chase down Mart’s army further north in Lennewarden. The battle was short, but perfectly bloody. I’ll leave to lay siege at Kernave.

**November 1202**

The War is over. I have taken Kernave, and Mart, humbled and humiliated, has surrendered his ill-gotten throne to me. I’ll let him be as a vassal, but keep my lands to my own.

**December 1203**

Our dynasty has eight ongoing cadet branches now. Two of us are Royal, three ducal, another five comital. Oh, has it truly been only three centuries since we were only minor counts in the least arable parts of Brittany?

**May 1208**

The Barony of Kastell-Briant has defaulted back to my rule with its baroness passing away in old age with no issue. Aime suggests I give it to a new nobleman, but no. I don’t think I will, at least for now. Let’s keep it as a reward to dangle at my knights’ head to make them fight better.

**February 1212**

Today, I went to war with the King of Aquitaine over my rights on the county of Montaigu. Not only is Montaigu rightfully Breton, I have worked the last two years to create a rightful claim over it myself, and it is now time to press it.

**July 1212**

Fought against a host of armies from Flanders and Aquitaine as well as Gaucher -the King in the south- himself and whoever he could hire for this war. The battle was bloody, but my men ruled supreme. A whole of six thousand men have died from the two sides, roughly equal in size, but Gaucher has been driven back into his realm.

**December 1212**

Gaucher’s men returned to Montaigu while I was still busy besieging it. The second battle of Montaigu has went better well for them than the first, as they had five more thousand men than I did. We’ve been driven back, sadly. Damn, I was sure Montaigu would have fallen in a matter of two more weeks. Bran has been disfigured. A sword to the face. Took me some time to convince him he _still_ could come out in public. He still wears a mask if he’s out of his room. Five if my men have been taken captive and twelve knights have been killed. Would this had ended better if _I_ had commanded my army myself?

**July 1213**

Defeated Flanders’ armies right at my capital, and then once more in Kastell-Briant. Will prepare for a second siege of Montaigu.

**March 1214**

Captured Montaigu and laid siege to Thouars. I think Gaucher will surrender if I take Thouars as well.

**June 1214**

Caught up with Gaucher’s forces once again in Loches. The battle -the last of its kind in this war- was over before I knew it. I don’t know _where_ Gaucher is, but he’s nowhere to be found. I’ve returned to Montaigu to ensure its security.

**October 1214**

Caught the petty little army of Amelie, the Duchess of Flanders trying to take back Montaigu. The battle was short and sweet. We killed every last one of her men -all 3,000 of them- and took three of her knights hostage. The War is over. Montaigu is mine.

I wonder if Bran will see it as a worthy prize for his disfigurement. He is, in other news, a father now. Little Mauric is a beautiful little boy.

**November 1216**

I’ve grown fat. Too many feasts, too little hunting I suppose. I haven’t done much outside of feasting or running my estates since the war in Montaigu. I find that I can’t justify any _further_ war to my son who will stand to inherit their fruit when I look at him now.

**May 1207**

Flaithem of Scotland has crowned himself Emperor of Alba, claiming dominion over all of Britannia. My spies from the far east tell me Temujin -the Great Khan- has taken much of Tartaria and Siberia in his conquest, inching closer and closer to both India, Persia and even the farthest reaches of Europe only just west of the steppes. Things are becoming dangerous for us -all of us, Catholic, Feudal noblemen of the continent- in ways they haven’t been since the fall of Rome herself.

_Mauric II of Brittany found peace in Christ’s embrace at 60 years of age on 30 September 1221. Dying from complications relating to obesity, he was a charming man famous for his wars, elaborate feasts and grandiose balls. In White Russia and Lithuania, he was succeeded by his second son Elmar mab Mauric, while the disfigured Bran, a wise and learned fellow expected to bring forth progress and innovation, took the thrones of Brittany and Estonia._


	14. Journal of Bran mab Mauric, King of Brittany (1221-1263)

**September 1221**

It was a dark, gloomy day when I was made king. It was a sordid affair, eventless and a bore in truth. There was no lavish ceremony -as the king of the French might want- or a showing of force. I wasn’t crowned in a battlefield, a barn or even a church. Mother told me that father was dead, so I put on the mask -like I’m expected to everyday if I want to leave my room-, went to the throne room and in front of my council -only three of them my vassals- put on the crown on my head. Not sure what else I could do, and not sure what else I _can_ do. Perhaps I can be a better father to my children than Mauric was to me? Or his own parents were to him? I’ll spend time with my children. I’ll educate them well. I won’t let them fight in battles they might lose half their face in. How hard can it be?

**January 1222**

Maybe not. My council has declared war on the Grand Princess of Novgorod. It was over the county of Tartu, rightfully Estonian -and as such rightfully mine. It’s not the only _de jure_ Estonian land Olena Nikitish-Tartu of Novgorod holds, but I can’t declare on all of it at once now, can I? It’s unseemly.

I’ve left home and hearth for the Baltic Sea. By the time I’ve made it there, I fully expect Frioc of Brest, my Marshal, has gathered my men-at-arms and some men worthy of fighting to take back our lands. I don’t expect to see my fighting _myself_ -I may know how to fight a war, but I know little about battles, and the last time I fought in one, it didn’t end well- but I will be with my men, at least while they fight now.

**February 1222**

In a turn of events, the Duchess of Gardinas -a vassal of my brother’s in White Russia- has declared war on me. She’s… I don’t remember her much, back when father held all the four thrones. I suppose some of the men in the Baltics could go further south for a bit of a scuffle with her ladyship Grasus. Frioc has pledged to lead the fight against her _personally_ , which is funny to me for a variety of reasons, least of all the fact I know she’s married to him. If you hated your wife so much, you could have just written a letter to the Holy Father, man!

**May 1222**

My men under Frioc utterly crushed Grasus’ soldiers in Lida. Grasus, not hoping to spend time in my dungeons, has ended her war on my rightful lands. Frioc’s men have been recalled across White Russia to join the fight in Novgorod. Though we’ve taken Tartu, the rest of Novgorod isn’t willing to leave that piece of land in our hands.

**November 1222**

The Duke of Anjou has made war against me _again_. Ye God, man, is war the only thing you ruffians are good at? Thankfully, it’s just Montaigu. I don’t _truly_ need it at this point. Let the French have it, I suppose.

**January 1223**

Much of my armies were crushed by her armies when we were besieging Novgorod. Have sent back all my men to reinforce and fortify our positions in Tartu for a final stand -one that we will hold and then begin a second offensive from.

**March 1223**

The final stand came in Poltsamaa. We fought for five days. When the battle began it was snowing, when it ended, the field around us had little snow. My Riders made short -and brutal- work of Olena’s line of Druzhina -her heavily armored men- and my footmen stood fast behind our shield wall as her Metsanvartija sent volley after volley of arrows at us. It was in the end a victory for us, if a steep one. While we lost more men than theirs, their armies have been sundered. I’ve taken personal command of my armies and will lead the offensive into Novgorod once again.

**October 1223**

Faced and fought Olena’s men in Vodi before the siege. The battle, and the siege it interrupted, were both victories. From Vodi, I have a direct path to Novgorod. The war is won, they just don’t know it yet.

**May 1224**

Took Novgorod after five months of siege. Olena surrendered quickly. Tartu -the place her House hails from- is mine, as it should be. I’ll probably have to stay in the Baltics for some time. My rebellious Vassals -the Duke of Finland and some Estonian lordlings- are _this_ close to making a bid for independence.

**June 1225**

Called for a hunt today near the lands of the Bishopric of Ikskila. The bishop is… not as much an expert in keeping his commoners in their place. There, we saw more poachers than we saw prey to even hunt. I’ve given them some of my gold today to aid the peasants, but I will have to speak with him. Either with the bishop, Toivo of Vizdeme, or with my own Bishop Gurcencor, to keep the peasants happy and -more importantly- out of my woods.

By the time we went back to Lemisele, we had brought down a stag, a boar, a fox and some hares. An adventure more rewarding than most.

**July 1226**

With the death of Khagan Jochi, several of his successors have claimed the position of Great Khan. None recognizing the others as sovereign, the age of Mongols as a unified Empire and threat to civilization is finally over. They are not weak by any means, but as they stand behind no “Universal Ruler” they are not a danger to us either. We thank you for your mercy, God.

**February 1227**

It seems I’ve spent more time in feasts -either in my own capital or in my vassals’ castles- than I have in my throne room. Today’s was something else though. A loud crash resounded in my brother’s halls -all the way across in his castle in Pokarwis- as one of the doors to the service quarters broke, and in a barely clothed tumble, it was Grasus -the Duchess of Gardinas- and Elmar’s knight Tethion who spilt out on the floor in front of everyone. Have you no shame, chiefess of Russia? I suppose it _did_ put a damper on things when Elmar had to clasp her arms in cuffs and take her to his dungeons. Adultery is wrong no matter what after all.

**March 1227**

Elmar abdicated today. He was always somewhat irresponsible, but I didn’t think he’d do this. His vassals have, hilariously enough, risen against his son now. Little Guiharan mab Elmar, my dear spindly nephew, has asked for my help dealing with the Adamite duke of Prussia. Seriously, how does he stay naked in the Balts?

**July 1228**

I’ve joined my men in our trip to Lithuania to help Guiharan against his rebellious vassals. He’d have little hope without me, and I have little reason to let his lands go to waste -or worse, to other dynasties- just because they’re not mine.

**August 1228**

Damn. Elmar is dead. He was killed by the Prussians if what my nephew tells me is right. At least it was in battle. Nowhere else would he have rather died in.

**December 1228**

Fought Prussia’s armies in Lecbarg. There was no chance for the damned Prussians to win. We outnumbered them four to one. I’ve sent half my men to besiege Prussia’s lands in Warmia and Pomesania. This way, we’ll be close enough to Guiharan’s capital to help if things come to blows. The damned fool has so land or men to fight with that it’s nearly laughable how quickly he’d be defeated without me.

**February 1229**

Mother is dead. She had spent most of her years after father’s death in her castle in Vitebsk, and apparently, she had the soundness of mind to give her possessions -the two holdings of Vitebsk and Polotsk to my son before drinking her way to the grave.

**November 1229**

Fought the damned Prussians in Lacberg again. Ended pretty much the same way as the last time, though we did not outnumber them that unfairly in this fight, and though Guiharan had the soundness of mind to partake in this battle, even if to justify his throne after I return home.

**July 1231**

Guordotal left home today. He stepped out of my house a bumbling squire and a misguided warrior, but also -to my shame, or perhaps despite it, at least if he learns how to run an estate- the Grand Prince of Vitebsk and Polotsk, both land he inherited from his mother. Little Drelouguen is only slightly better, though an adequate schemer. I am disappointed. Not sure if It’s at _them_ or at my own lack of skill in being a tutor.

**January 1232**

Guiharan is dead. His sister -two years his junior- has taken his throne for now. I fear I do not know what game is afoot. Elmar, now his son?

**November 1232**

Morganne is dead. Killed in an accident in the woods -left the child alone, and she went to wander. Found the body mangled only a day later. I have been crowned King of Lithuania and White Russia. God have mercy on my brother’s soul, and watch his children in the afterlife. I’ve made war, immediately, against the former-vassals of the Lithuanian Crown in Courland. It is time to reunify the lands of the Lithuanian crown under the house of Orming.

**October 1233**

Fought the armies of the Count of Palanga in Kuressaare. The battle was short, and also the first since this debacle started a year ago. We won.

**January 1237**

Nearly five years since I came to reunify all Lithuania, and it is over. The final nail was our utter victory against the armies of the countess of Grobin, the last independent ruler of Courland, who an army I personally led would crush in Piltene. With Ane’s surrender, Lithuania -all of it- is finally mine.

**November 1237**

Today, I sailed back for Gwened after thirteen years in Lithuania. I didn’t expect it to take this long. I had come here only to take some of Estonia’s lands from those who held it unlawfully, and yet a rebellion, three murders and now five years of putting down my lawful -rebelling- vassals down, all have made me remain here longer than I should. I have a home to return to.

**December 1239**

Through the conquests of my vassal Arvet of Viipuri and Bo II of Finland -purely in the name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ of course- I have enough land to crown myself the rightful King of Finland today. My vassals met with me in Turku, the capital of Bo II, Duke of Finland, to crown me the King of Finland. Today, I am king to five separate realms.

**June 1241**

My dear Margarete. I might not have loved you, yet I feel your passing more acutely than I ever thought possible. You were always there, my constant companion, my closest advisor, my most loyal friend. Did I take you for granted? I hope you find peace, dear.

**August 1241**

Aita Alempois, the countess of Narva and -unbeknownst to everyone else- my Spymaster, came to me with terrible news. Someone is planning to kill me. This comes at a time of weakness. The throne of Estonia is in danger -many of my vassals have banded together behind a movement of putting a Catholic Estonian on its throne, and even outside, there are words of rebellion all over the realm. We must find the villain behind this, and we must do so fast.

**November 1241**

I’m both relieved and enraged. Aita tells me it is not my vassals -or anyone related to them- that is planning my murder. It is Janko. A Pole who I struck a fast rivalry with years ago when father was king and I one of his knights in battle. I had killed two of his brothers, beheaded his third and… well, he wears a mask like mine after we fought in a battle. I can see _why_ he’d want to kill me, even if I am utterly indifferent to him.

**February 1242**

Frioc mab Guethenan is dead. Once, he was a rebellious vassal of my father’s. Then, he was a loyal vassal to me, and finally my marshal and -lately- a good friend. He died old, but not of oldness -found him in his room in his castle in Leon with a drink in hand. I will miss you, old friend. You will never be forgotten.

**April 1245**

A minor duke count in the frozen wastes of Russia has brought forth all her armies to take some of my lands. Do these people simply have no idea about proportions and military size?

**June 1246**

Made war with the Duke of Mazovia. He holds lands _de jure_ belonging to the duchy of Masuria, rightfully domain of the Kingdom of Lithuania -and truly the last of Lithuanian lands not still under my grasp after I went to war all those years ago. He _may_ prove somewhat of an equal in battle, and so I will go to war with him in person.

**August 1246**

Fought the bulk of Havel II’s armies in the forests of Ilawa while we came to besiege the castle of Malborg. The battle ended quickly as we outnumbered them three to two, and as my soldiers were better trained. My newly trained Gendarmes brought terror into their hearts on a scale these Poles have never had the misfortune to taste until now. Sent much of my armies to besiege Sudovian and Chelmno, while I led the siege on Ilawa in person.

**January 1247**

Captured Ilawa, but faced Havel’s armies -led, still, by Piotr of Stade- in Velowe. This time, the battle was much less unfair, in part because most of my soldiers were merely my levies and most of _his_ were his men-at-arms. We numbered roughly equally, and yet I won nonetheless. My men even injured the commander, though he -and half of his men who had survived- ran away.

**June 1247**

With Lec also falling to my soldiers, only Chelmno is left. Faced Stade’s soldiers _again_ on my way to help Austol de Nantes, my commander, besiege that fortification. The second Battle of Ilawa ended much like the last two pitched battles of this war, tough we lost Tarvet, the Duke of Estonia, in battle. The War is over. I’ll march on Plock today, and if he doesn’t surrender, we’ll besiege that too.

**November 1247**

Plock has fallen to my hands. The craven duke surrendered today. I’ll personally take Chelmno, while two of his vassals -Prusas of Sasna and Dobrave of Sudovian- will be transferred to my suzerainty. Gave Chelmno to a loyal knight of mine, Badouin of Leon, who proved himself to me in the war. I might make him the Duke of Masuria as well, loyalty -and friendship- should be rewarded. And it’ll do well to civilize these lands, they’ve been under the Polish yoke for far too long.

**April 1249**

I gathered my notes in a stack on my writing desk; I was meant to hold a speech about recent cultural advancements of the realm in front of some ambassadors of the foreign realms -West Francia, Alba, Frisia and Bavaria were the most important ones.

They all knew me of course, but how would I like to be introduced… My vassals and the commoners of Brittany alike have come to know me as the Sage. Bran the Sage, King of Brittany. Hm. I like the sound of that.

**July 1249**

One kingdom, one heir. That is a principle that I believe it is time we -as a people- hold to be true. To that purpose, I have changed the law of the realm to hold Primogeniture as the way of our succession. Upon my death, all my lands will go, only, to my eldest son. This way my realm will not fracture. My kingdom will hold, and our realm will only expand. Thankfully, I am the only surviving son of my father and have only one son. By the time Guordotal’s son grows up, the realm will be used to this.

**February 1252**

Nikodemos II, Emperor in the East and -hilariously enough- the father of my son-in-law has asked for my help. He is trying to take some land in the near east -Shirvan in the Caucasus- and has deigned to ask for my help against the forces of the Saracen ruler Giwargis Seyfullahid. I’ll set sail at dawn with my men to meet him in Constantinople and join him in his war all the way across the known world.

**July 1252**

There is a thing inside me which is not me. It eats its way through my flesh, feeding of my life force, its strength increasing while I grow wither away. I push my hands at the growth under my skin, my fingers aching to tear it out. Against such an enemy, there is no victory. God, give me strength to live through this war before I come to answer to you beyond the pale.

**August 1253**

Made it to Ganja, the fortified castle in Aran and the edges of Shirvan. Thus far, the Emperor has fought -and defeated- two assaults from the Seyfullahid Sultan’s armies, thankfully before it could bother me.

**December 1254**

Fought the armies of the Sultan in Gabarawan.

**December 1255**

Fought the Sultan’s men _again_ , in Kudevan. This battle may be what _decides_ the fate of the war. More men died in the wetlands of Shaki today than I’ve lost in any single war I’ve fought in since I took the throne, and I’ve fought in _many_ of them.

**July 1256**

Like I knew, the battle decided the war. The Sultan’s armies were sundered, and the Emperor quickly captured the remaining fortifications in Shirvan. I’ve to spend a few months in Constantinople to feast alongside the Varangians and the Legions of Rome, and then I’ll get back to Gwened. I feel that my days are numbered. I’d hoped for a warrior’s death, martyred in the way of Christ in a war for his name… I suppose God has elected to see me dead in my own bed.

**December 1256**

Perhaps not. My son-in-law, Akakios of Rashka -the Byzantine Emperor’s son- has asked for my help to defeat some of his fellows in the Balkans who he wishes to take the lands of. I’ve sent more of my men to help him out _now_ before I go home. I’ve besieged Dyrrachion, the capital of Isaakios II’s lands, and once I have it, I’ll come to Akakios’ help. Once this war is over, I’ll _have_ to do something about my coffers. I am four years in debt now, and it will only be made worse the longer a war is to go on.

**October 1259**

We have finally captured _all_ the lands Isaakios holds. Even if he holds off our attacks any further, he will be forced to give up his war soon. Good.

**November 1260**

I’ve grown obese and a drunkard. The depression of losing _all_ my friends, falling ill with cancer and -now- my empty, ailing coffers have put me into the least healthy I’ve ever been. Make it a year or two, I’ll pass on from this realm. The only question is, what will take me? My obesity, the drink or the goddamned tumors?

Guardotal, my son, will stand to inherit my lands. He is a family man. Three sons and daughters -the oldest an adequate diplomat, though I hold no hope for him to be a good _king_. I’m assured now that I’ll leave my lands to good hands when I die soon.

**March 1262**

I know it, even if my fellows don’t. I’ll be dead within a year. I’ve lived long. I’ve made it farther than most men do -or ever have. My lands and home are in safe hands once I’m gone, and all my friends are waiting for me. Mauric my son, taken from me for your sickness. Elmar, Taimi, Gloiucen, Languoret, my brother and sisters, Margarete, my dearest. I miss you all dearly. I’ll be with you soon.

_King Bran ‘the Sage’ of Brittany has found peace in Christ’s embrace at 75 years of age on 14 March 1263, dying from cancer. A knowledgeable man, whole of body and a scholar, he was known just as much for his intelligence as he was for his skill in battle, for he fought in more wars in his time than any of his predecessors. In his lands, he was succeeded by Guordatol, his first -and only- son._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my last pre-written chapter. Due to events largely out of my control I've not played CK3 enough to "write" any more chapters, so if anyone's reading this I'm not sure if and when the next chapters will be out.


End file.
